


Victor's Moving Castle

by weeaboobiwrites



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: "how else will you surprise them?", "you've gotta do the opposite of what people expect.", (but what's new), (oh god the pining), A N A R C H Y, AU-ception, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Building Support and Trust, Cause I changed up the plot bitches, Chris seems like a bad dude at first but I swear on my tits he isn't, Fate, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Howl's Moving Castle AU, Light Angst, Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Minami answers the door, Mystery, Pining, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Victor is a mystery and an enigma wrapped in an obnoxiously extra dorky shell, Yuri hates everything and demands to be taken seriously, Yuuri really didn't ask for this, but not for long cause IM A BITCH, death hoaxes, dogs are stolen, he wants a refund on life, hm what else, in the famous words of victor nikiforov:, it's like an au of an au, kinda like the show when you think about it, like even for me this is pushing the limits of creative liberty, oh also:, sleeping together in a way that's completely innocent, to be honest i fucking ran with this story so much, uh, warships are exploded
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:38:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9665870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weeaboobiwrites/pseuds/weeaboobiwrites
Summary: "You make me feel brave," Yuuri whispered.Victor smiled softly and lifted his hand to Yuuri's face. The fingers that brushed across his cheek were so gentle, as if he were afraid that Yuuri would shatter and disappear."And you always guide me home."A pointless war, a moving castle, a contract sealed in fire and a hood that can't be removed. Yuuri can't face anyone, Victor is an empty man with a deadline, and Yuri doesn't know what he did to deserve being forced into the role of a wingman.This is the story of two boys, two curses, a cure that's right in front of everyone's noses, and the journey along the way.ON HIATUS: IT'S HAPPENING I SWEAR





	1. A Walk in the Skies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus Christ, what am I doing.  
> So, uh. This is my first time writing a fanfic. And a multi-chaptered story. Ever. I'm a little scared. What the fuck is? What do?  
> I don't know. I'm a studio ghibli ho. I'm a Yuri on Ice ho.  
> I'm a nerd.  
> Enjoy, I guess.

 

 

No matter who you are, you’ve heard of Victor Nikiforov.

No matter where you’re from, whether you love or hate him, whether it’s in a different tongue or alias, you’ve heard his name before. Perhaps you’ve imagined yourself as him, daydreaming of weaving the world between your fingers and bending it to your liking, or maybe you’re the type to stick up your nose at his blatant disregard for authority. Perhaps you’ve imagined him naked. Don’t be shy, you aren’t the only one.

If you’ve heard his name then you’ve heard the stories that come with it. Was the first one you'd heard told to you as a child, tucked into bed and letting the softly retold tale of when Victor saved a beached blue dragon guide you to sleep? Or maybe you overheard one in an overcrowded bar, where a red faced drunk screamed the thrilling tale of when Victor took out an entire wing of the formidable fae mafia single handedly, in one night. A story about Victor’s adventures is an adventure its own right, each one an exhilarating and white knuckle ride. They crash right up to the border of the impossible and implausible, leaving your head turning and desperate for more.

So yes, you’ve heard of Victor Nikiforov. You’ve heard more than enough about demons and witches, of irremovable spells and living castles. But let me tell you just one more story, a story you’ve never heard before. This is a story about the things you take for granted, and the things you can’t live without. This is the best story about Victor yet.

And it's not even his...

 

~~~

 

There isn’t a name for that slot of time between afternoon and evening, when the sun is bright but not quite sinking, when the sky is a shade darker but not a magnificent sunset patterned canvas. Nonetheless, that’s what time it was, in a small break room of a small hot spring villa in a small, small town in the Kingdom of Calmany.

There’s a very subtle magic in this time that is all too easy to miss. For instance, that tiny little break room was washed in a candle glow, the air toasted golden and warm as a bath, yet none of the workers took the time to appreciate it. They were too busy bustling about the cramped space, chattering excitedly, adjusting hats and adorning scarves as they prepared to make leave for the day.

All except one boy. He was nestled in a corner away from the din, back hunched over an unpolished wooden desk that sat directly beneath a small country window. The frilly lace curtains were drawn wide to let light seep through, but the glass was shut tight. Today the entire town seemed to be vibrating, wooden wheels and heeled shoes and horse hooves hammering the streets outside without rest. Needless to say, it had been a loud day, and the boy had never been one to concentrate with loud. The ceaseless static of background noise had left him with a headache, a pile of inn bathrobes covered in holes that still needed to be stitched, and an inordinate amount of time before his concentration inevitably broke once more.

_**TOOT, TOOOOOOOOOOOOT.** _

Yuuri hissed and dropped his needle, cradling his pricked finger as he leaned away from the robes, sparing them from miniscule droplets of blood. _Ugh, again…? Is it really necessary to run that dreadful thing double time today…?_ Necessary or not, the floor beneath his feet trembled as the rust red train chugged by yet again. The violently clattering tracks wound most unfortunately around the front the inn, its pipe wheezing hideous black puffs of smoke that billowed outside of Yuuri’s window in thick clouds, effectively killing his main source of light. He sat back in his chair with a sigh.

“Yuuri, dear?”

He craned his head around to look over his shoulder and into the kind face of his mother, who stood over him with a soft and somewhat sad smile. She rubbed soothing circles into his tense back.

“It’s getting late now. You should finish work for the day,” She spoke very carefully, as though her words were dancing over landmines. “You’ve done more than enough, you should get out. Go watch the Soldier’s Parade.”

“I’m fine, mother. I’ve got to finish these up,” he lifted a robe from the pile.

“You’ve already done so much, Yuuri, you really don’t need- “

“I’m fine,” he assured with a light smile. “I don’t care much for the crowds.”

She resigned, stepping back with a sigh. “Alright. But you can stop at any time. You should try going out tonight. Today’s a day for celebration, after all.”

He nodded, his smile dropping once she turned away. The cloud of train smoke had dissipated, finally allowing the sun to seep into the room and illuminate his work once more. He furrowed his brow, pushing his glasses further up his face and pinching his needle firmly between his fingers.

“LOOK! Look! It’s Victor! It’s Victor’s moving castle!”

He dropped his needle again, head whipping towards the window in spite of himself.

In the blink of an eye, Yuuri’s tranquil little corner was crowded with every warm body in the room, pressing uncomfortably against his shoulder blades as they wrestled for a better view. It was lucky he was already there to begin with. If he had been anywhere else, he wouldn’t have even had a whisper of a chance to see through the window through the sea of bobbing heads.

“Where, Minako, where?”

“It’s far away, do you see it? On the very edge of the Waste…”

Yuuri squinted, eyes scanning far over the rooftops and cobblestone roads and into the vast green lands that marked where civilization ended and the unknown began. When his eyes finally caught movement, it was too late; a tiny blot just barely danced across his field of vision before it disappeared in the fog beyond the horizon.

“Aw, it’s gone,” Minako whined, stomping her foot inadvertently over Yuuri’s toes.

“Hiding in the mist, musta spotted our fighter planes and panicked,” Nishigori mused.

“It was so close this time,” Minako hummed. “The last town he went to, in South Haven, did you hear what he did there? He was being chased through their marketplace by a pair of guards, and he turned every piece of fruit in the stands into white doves! It was chaos! Do you think he’ll stop here?”

“Not even he would dare today! Not when the War on Magic has just begun!”

“Never say never, “Yuuko murmured, still staring out the window dreamily. “You can never tell what he’s gonna do next. Did you know that he once saved the High King’s wife from wizard mercenaries?”

“Surely not!”

“It’s true! He fought his own kind and no one knows why!”

“Explains why he’s so comfortable with his castle smack dab in the middle of Calmany. Perhaps he thinks that the High King will be more lenient on him. Still though, what a wild card!”

“Perhaps too wild... Victor’s loyalties are clearly without a home...what if he was the one responsible for the disappearance of the High King’s heir?”

“You may not be far off the mark, considering what he is truly capable of,” Minako wiggled her fingers, face twisted into a dreadful smile. “Did you hear what happened to Marney Hansen’s daughter? They say Victor tore her heart right out!”

“What?! Ew, how creepy. Now I don’t wanna go out…” Mari shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself

“Don’t worry, Mari,” Minako sang, grasping her hand with exaggerated sincerity, “wizards like Victor only prey on the pretty ones!”

They all erupted into laughter, finally backing away from Yuuri’s corner, chattering loudly about wizards and magic and bleeding hearts until the door slammed shut behind them.

Relieved with the quiet, he hummed another quiet sigh and recovered his needle from where it fell to the floor. He tried to immerse himself in his work once more, but there was little in the world that could drive out the seed of Victor’s Moving Castle once it had been imbedded in the brain.

Yuuri couldn’t put his finger on the first time he’d heard his name. It was like he came out of nowhere, slid into their lives in permanent fixture with the most natural of ease. It was a remarkable feat, to be a wizard so highly known and widely discussed in the kingdom of Calmany, a kingdom that had always been conservative in its regards to magic. But with Victor, it was different. He had a magnetic sort of pull, a charm that left you unable to stop talking about him for days.

It was said that he lived in a castle that never stayed still, there one minute and gone the next. He followed nothing but the wind, popping up where he pleased without rhyme or reason, the places he touched never the same when he left. His adventures were addicting, so bold and impossible that they seemed like fiction. But with time it became apparent that nothing was impossible for Victor.

The first time Victor’s castle appeared on the edge of the Waste in their tiny greenbelt village, Yuuri worried that their already meager population would be lost to heart attack. No one shut up about it for days, eyewitnesses were held as prophets while mouths moved miles at the minute. Over the years Victor still popped up every now and again, but he never ventured into town, steering his castle farther into the Waste than anyone dared go. It was about then that the rumors started. 

Though Calmany was never famed for viewing wizards in a positive light, the extent that people took gossip regarding Victor was still a little shocking. The most popular working theory was that Victor was a dangerous immortal, driven senile in his unassuming old age. He lurked on the edges of towns so that he could swoop in and steal the hearts of beautiful young people in the night, which he took home and brewed into potions to restore his youthful appearance. And if you ever found yourself unfortunate enough to be in his way, he would curse you and your entire village into oblivion.

These rumors kept a fresh presence in Yuuri’s mind, and he didn’t need to be told twice to stay away from Victor and the Waste. Yet he still couldn’t shake the draw of the wizard, like a tiny invisible hook that was nestled too deep in his mind to yank out. He couldn’t help straining his ears to hear a whisper of his name in the streets, or staring deep into the Waste for minutes on end before he realized what he was doing. He couldn’t say why, but he wasn’t worried either; it didn’t seem like he was the only one. Everyone in town regarded him with a heady and confusing mixture of terror and awe. He was feared, but revered, admired at an arm’s length. No one that Yuuri knew had ever seen his face or approached his castle, but that didn’t stop his stories from floating through their streets like air, a single glimpse of a castle in the distance enough to keep the entire village breathing for months.

 _I wonder_ , Yuuri thought, yanking a thread tight, _how these people would feel if Victor ends up getting killed. I wonder if they’d be sad..._

And yet outside, the crowds in the streets were thickening, the voices rising until even the closed windows couldn’t shut out their excitement. Yuuri sighed yet again. _I give up._ He got to his feet, brushing dust off his pants with one hand and plopping his simple straw hat on his head with the other. _It’s not like I was getting work done anyways._

 

~~~~

 

If he thought that it was noisy inside the villa all day, he was not even slightly prepared for the chaos of the outside. Every citizen was out in force, women with powdered noses fanning themselves with propaganda leaflets, men pinning the crest of Calmany to their finest hats. Children dashed along the street with blatant disregard for whomever was in their path, waving flags and clutching confetti bombs. The assault of it all was enough to make him want to recoil back to the safety of the inn, but before he could make a choice in the matter he was swept into the crowd. Helpless to the flow of the current, Yuuri suddenly realized that he had no idea where to go.

The parade was simply not up for discussion. He felt nauseous just imagining being pressed up to strangers like sardines in a can, the noise and the streamers and balloons too much for his senses to handle even in his imagination. He couldn’t go home now; battling the flow of the crowd to make his way back to the inn was a terrifying thought alone, but the notion of returning home even when his mother had told him to go out effectively put a lid on that option.

In the end he settled to see his friend Phichit’s circus show. He’d gone so many times that he knew the whole program by heart, but the list of places that didn’t give Yuuri a headache were unfortunately limited, and Phichit’s place was his only option left. The only issue was that he’d have to take a trolley to get there, which ran through town square.

Gulping a deep breath and mustering up all the resolve he could, he delved into the heart of the horde. His nerves pricked with consistent stabs of discomfort, not a second passing without someone jostling into his shoulder, stepping on his feet, or pushing him to the side.

The trolley station was a nightmare. There was a hideous clog in traffic as people swarmed the trolley like a pack of wolves, fists flying and voices shouting angrily in a brutal battle for seats. Yuuri hung passively to the edge of the crowd and waiting until the departing clang of the trolley bell rang through the air. He hopped on at the last second, the wheels screeching to life almost the moment his foot touched the entrance step. He opted to stay where he was rather than face the bloodbath that was undoubtedly going on the inside the car, clutching onto the pole railing to balance himself and watching the enraged faces that didn’t make it on disappear from sight.

He kept one hand on his head to keep his hat in place as the trolley picked up speed, chugging through the neighborhoods of brick gothic houses with red tile roofs, pots of flowers set on the sills of open windows. A few people leaned out of their houses to wave energetically as they passed. Yuuri waved back shyly at first but opted to ignore them when it started feeling too awkward. At one point they were spotted by a loose dog, who bounded alongside the trolley, barking excitedly as it tried to keep up. It was nearly enough to cure his headache on sight.

Unfortunately the good mood that the dog had put him in didn’t last very long at all, as they soon reached town square. The trolley came to a shuddering halt, the car doors flying open with a violent bang, people flooding out of the car like blood from a wound. Yuuri scrambled out of the way, making room to let the steady stream of keyed up humans empty into the buzzing, hectic sea that was the parade.

“THE HIGH KING’S SON DISAPPEARED WITHOUT A TRACE, AND INTEL SUGGESTS THAT IT WAS THE WORK OF MALICIOUS WITCHES AND WIZARDS!” the tinny voice on the loudspeakers bored holes into Yuuri’s head, turned up to outrageous volumes in order to be heard above the chaos. “LET HIM BE THE FINAL VICTIM OF THESE DEVILS INCARNATE! LET US STOP LIVING IN FEAR FOR ONCE AND FOR ALL!”

“SOLDIERS, MARCH ON!”

The roar of the howling of the crowd peaked like the crest of a wave, marching bands banging to life with a triumphant crash of symbols. Rolling tanks and marching soldiers led the procession while fighter jets swooped low over the rabid swarms, flags bearing the King’s crest streaming from their tails. Yuuri shut his eyes again and tried to ignore the dull pounding of pain that echoed in his ears. 

The trolley picked up pace again and calm seeped its way back into Yuuri’s bones, relieved to put the scene behind him. Eventually the bellowing crowds were reduced to a dull and distant hum, and the wide and brightly lit roads narrowing into damp and uneven back alleys. Yuuri abandoned his perch on the trolley without waiting for it to make a full stop, high in spirits despite the newfound cold of his shadowy surroundings. His journey to Phichit’s was one he could make in his sleep, and best of all, he wouldn’t be likely to run into more than two or three people. 

The quiet of the back roads did wonders for his headache, with little noise other than the creak of a rusty sign swaying in the wind, or the scurrying of rat feet flying across the damp stone. He traversed the winding roads with the ease of one who had made the journey many a time before, noting the shabby stores he passed with familiarity, feeling a stab of regret that he forgot to bring coins as he passed by a few of the homeless squatters who frequently took shelter beneath the crumbling verandas. As he turned a corner onto a new road, however, his stomach sank to a sight that was out of the ordinary. Tension raced up his spine as two drunken soldiers hobbled down the middle of the street, heading straight his way.

_Oh no. Keep it cool._

“Hey, little piglet! You lost?”

Yuuri shook his head firmly and sped up his pace to brush past them. “No, not lost.”

One of the soldiers slammed an arm in Yuuri’s way, causing him to jerk back to avoid his touch. “You know, you’re kinda cute, for a little piggy boy,” the man staggered on the spot, swaying uncomfortably close. He could see every coarse fiber of his thick and unflattering mustache. “What a nice, soft body. You look thirsty, little piggy. You wanna have a drink with me?”

“No, thank you. I have somewhere to be.”

“Hahahaa, turned down again, buddy!” The soldier shoved his friend roughly, nearly sending him toppled to the ground. “I toldja it’s cause of yer ugly ass mustache, why don’tcha trim the dang thing..?”

“H-hey..I like my mustache..”

“Yeah, Yeah. It’s okay, though,” He turned to Yuuri, his glazed eyes melting into something chillingly predatory. “I think the little piglet is even cuter when he’s scared.”

Yuuri’s hands stiffened into fists at his sides, his teeth clenching. Parts of him wanted to scream at them, to tell them to leave him alone or run away, report them to the high guard and let them lose their jobs. But their sneering voices melded into white noise in his ears, his vision turning blank as his mind cramped and bent under the weight of choosing an option, of choosing one quickly. He was frozen on the spot, feeling like a fool as the guard’s laughter only got louder, closer-

“Sorry, gents, he’s with me.”

Heavily jeweled fingers slipped over the curve of his neck, a hand settling gracefully on his shoulder, light as a feather. Yuuri’s chin jerked up so hard that in normal circumstances he would’ve worried he’d get whiplash. As it was, his entire thought process came to a grinding and shell shocked halt as he took in the stranger who was leaning so casually against him.

He had the dress and poise of a man who should’ve been in a royal court, sipping spirits with the country’s most refined and opulent elite, god forbid a dank and off-the-grid back road of a small country town. His rich billowy cotton white shirt tucked into neatly creased trousers and leather boots were the picture of casual class, an illusion shattered by an extravagant suede magenta coat, embroidered with intricate golden designs and tossed loosely across his shoulders like an afterthought. Apparently he didn't even have the time to spare to put his arms through the immaculately tailored sleeves that hung limply at his sides. His jewelry was ridiculous: a pair of precious stones dangling from his ears, many more on his fingers and wrists, glinting light in a way that way just plain rude to the physics of their dark surroundings.

But even all of that held no candle to the dumbfounding beauty of his appearance. Long, silvery blonde hair shimmered like a waterfall mirage down his back, not an iridescent strand out of place. His pale face was inhumanely without a flaw, chiseled, symmetrical, and smooth. His eyes were such an improbable shade of blue that Yuuri couldn’t even bring himself to conjure up something to compare them to.

People like this simply didn’t exist. Yuuri knew it. The two soldiers knew it. That’s why no one moved, staring blankly with mouths agape and eyes wide, like they were waiting for the man to disappear and for everything to go back to normal. But he didn't; he stayed where he was, smiling casually as if the entire situation weren't painfully awkward and as if it wasn't entirely his fault.

Mustache man was the first to come to his senses. “I don't - but we - why don’t you butt out, we’re busy here!”

The man’s smile widened, pearly teeth glinting dangerously. “Is that so? Because it seemed like you were just leaving!”

With a flourish, his hand left Yuuri’s shoulder and raised into the air. With a clap of his palms, the soldiers smushed together, side by side. With a twirl of his pinkie, the soldiers turned hard left, facing in the opposite direction. And finally, as he mimicked walking with two down turned fingers, the soldiers marched off, shouting line drills as they went.

_What._

“Don't worry, they won't be bothering you anymore. They're off to rejoin the festivities. Where were you going?”

For a moment Yuuri didn’t even register the question, staring off into the direction that the soldiers had just marched away. His mouth was still hanging open and his eyes had begun to itch from going too long without blinking, desperately trying to work out whether or not his mind was playing tricks on him. When he realized he was being spoken to, and probably expected of an answer, he jolted in the air, face turning beet red.

“I was just - to my - Circus Chulanot.” He stammered.

“A circus! How fun. Shall we go?” The man crooked his arm, extending it to Yuuri in invitation.

Yuuri was positively confounded. Everything was happening in such rapid succession that his mind couldn’t keep up. Had he missed something? Had the man forgotten that they had never met before? That the soldiers were gone, and they could drop the act? Was he being polite? Oh god, _had_ they met before and Yuuri didn’t even realize? Would it be rude to turn him down?

Several more seconds passed with Yuuri standing dumbfounded and silent in the streets, slack-jawed and staring blankly at the man before him. Yet the man didn’t move from his position, arm extended towards Yuuri, his winning smile unflinching and undeterred.

_I have to do something. What do I do? I should just turn him down. How should I do it? Would he listen if I told him politely? Should I just turn and run?_

_What the hell am I doing._

_Why the hell am I reaching for his arm?_

His hand trembled slightly as it settled in the crook of the extended elbow.

_Oh no._

Before he could second guess himself, pull away with a halfhearted apology, he was jerked closer into the man’s side, their bodies pressed together from toe to shoulder. It was too close, way too close, so close that he could feel the man's breath ghosting in his ear.

“I'm being followed. Act completely natural.”

And they started walking.

Yuuri had never felt so unnatural in his life. His joints moved stiffly, limbs feeling as though they belonged to a different body. His head and neck were locked in place yet his eyeballs were darting in every direction. There was someone following them. Who could it be? Yuuri couldn’t even imagine the sorts of people could be following such a bizarre and improbable man. Yuuri didn’t even want to know. He felt like he was going to be sick.

 _Act natural, act natural._ Yuuri’s neck twitched slightly as he fought the urge to look behind him.

 _Act natural, act natural._ Yuuri accidentally kicked a pebble and the noise made him jump a mile in the air.

 _Act natural, act natural._ Yuuri’s eyes wandered over to the stranger he was arm in arm with and locked on. In the back of his mind he was aware that he was probably being rude with the amount of blatant staring he had accomplished in such a short amount of time, but the man didn’t even seem to take notice, eyes forward, perfect smile frozen on his face.

_Wait...why am I even doing this?! Who are you?_

Yuuri felt sweat prickle in the palm that was clutching the man’s elbow like a vise. In the realm of puzzling things that could explain the puzzling events that were occurring, there was no doubt in Yuuri’s mind that the answer to his million dollar question wouldn’t be a good one. Could he be a wizard, perhaps? Or was Yuuri just being jumpy since it was the start of the War on Magic? After all, he still hadn't made up his mind on whether or not he imagined what happened to the guards. He was almost positive they'd never met before, but he was too scared to ask him to clarify. Maybe he was a lunatic. Was he a criminal? Oh no, was Yuuri aiding a _criminal_...?

Yuuri was so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed the faint sound of dripping.

Black, gelatinous ooze was seeping from the gutter drains, the cracks in the walls, even the grates of the sewers. It was viscous and thick and oily like tar, gurgling as it dribbled to the ground in slightly bubbling puddles. Yuuri realized, with horror, that the substance was creeping with terrifying sentience, defying the laws of nature as it slithered over the uneven roads without slowing down, collecting with obscene squelching noises into large, quaking pools. 

When the puddles reached a certain size, the substances starting creeping into the air, unfurling like tendrils of vines. They sludged and stuck and knitted themselves into terrifying humanoid forms with long, drooping limbs that dripped slightly, swaying on the spot as though they couldn’t support the weight of their overlarge, faceless heads. They finally stopped shooting upwards once they loomed over ten feet tall, taking staggering, aborted steps in their direction.

Yuuri tried to choke off a shriek, an unflattering squeal slipping past his lips instead.

“Ah, we’ve been found.” The man murmured, eyes remaining forward and pace picking up. “Looks like you're wanted by association. Sorry.”

The ooze hadn’t stopped gushing from the walls and the monsters seemed to be coming from every direction now, their path ahead getting blocked with twitching puddles and blob creatures, nodding their heads like they were coming out of sleep. Now that they were closer Yuuri could see that they were dressed as bellhops, for whatever reason, complete with ribboned straw hats. The odd juxtaposition did not serve to make them any less terrifying, especially as they seemed to come more to life as the seconds slipped by, zeroing in on the pair like a pack of wolves tracking their prey.

The man yanked Yuuri hard to the right, steering them into a different alleyway that Yuuri hadn’t even noticed.

“Time to run.”

The second they broke out into a sprint the monsters hunched over on all fours, hurtling after them at an alarming pace. They had begun to show what they were truly made of, bouncing off of walls and tumbling directly on their tails, snapping at their ankles with quivering limbs thrown like lassos. The man grabbed Yuuri’s hand to tug him into running even faster, waving his other one in the air. With a crash, all of the used furniture in a pawn shop they'd sprinted past flew straight out of the display window, piling in the middle of the street. The monsters didn’t slow down, colliding with the makeshift barrier in a deafening smash that echoed up and down the alleyway. Many lost their footing, crumbling into pulpy pieces that gyrated among the wreckage, but others collected themselves quickly, persisting after them as if they hadn’t noticed at all.

Yuuri’s heart felt like it was lodged in his throat, adrenaline coursing through his veins like lightning as he stumbled over the slippery stone road, hand in hand with the unorthodox definition of stranger danger. They turned a corner into a new alleyway only to skid on their heels to avoid running smack into a horde of new blob monsters, freshly formed and staggering towards them slowly. The man slashed a hand through the air and a pile of firecrackers assembled out of nowhere at their feet, fuses lit and eating their way closer to detonation in tiny sparks. The man grabbed Yuuri's hand again and dragged him out the way they came, narrowly slipping past the pack that had been managed to catch up with them and sprinting frantically down open road. 

_**BOOM!** _

The firecrackers exploded behind them, the entire world seeming to shake with the force of it. Buildings trembled where they stood, the rusty shop signs squealing madly as they shook on their hinges. Even the ground seemed to vibrate, Yuuri's feet nearly flying out from under him. Behind them a dazzling display of colored light bloomed and crackled magnificently, hardly visible in the sky that teetered on the edge of non-evening and non-afternoon. If you squinted, you could just barely make out bits of charcoal hued entrails and ribboned straw hats amongst the pretty fireworks, hovering high in the air before crashing back to the ground. Yuuri was so scared that he couldn’t breathe, yet he felt the most bizarre urge to laugh. He wondered if he was going insane.

 _No more insane than him,_ Yuuri thought to himself, glancing up at the stranger as they rounded a corner into yet another alleyway. The man’s mouth was cracked into a wide grin, not a drop of sweat or an ounce of worry staining his pretty face, eyes twinkling and still facing unwaveringly forward.

Yuuri followed his gaze.

There was a dead end.

Every muscle in Yuuri’s body froze, coming to a crashing halt that nearly sent the both of them toppling to the ground. The sound of wet gelatin slapping over cobblestone was getting deafeningly closer, and the wall before them was far too high to climb, and he had nowhere to go, no idea what was going to happen to them, no doubt that it wouldn’t be anything good.

_Am I going to die?_

Without warning Yuuri was yanked out of his thoughts again, the man jerking him backwards by his waist so that they were pressed chest to back, Yuuri facing the front. Was he being used as a shield?! Now he had perfect view of the monsters as they rounded the corner, so close that he could smell the cloying, inexplicably sweet perfume they were emitting, their movements even more sporadic and jerky as if they could smell victory. They all flung their jelly arms at them in unison, Yuuri squeezing his eyes shut and holding his breath, bracing himself for what was to come-

All of a sudden Yuuri felt as if all his insides had dropped to his feet, the wind whipping around him from every direction. His ears were popping and his head spun dangerously fast, he tried to gulp in a breath but he found that he couldn’t. With extreme difficulty he managed to open one eye and look to the ground, only to see the road and the monsters and the back alley getting smaller and smaller…

He was in the air.

A scream ripped itself from his lungs, legs kicking desperately for purchase in the open sky. Tears sprung from his eyes, whether from the wind or the shock he didn’t know. He squeezed them shut again, chest heaving in panicked breaths.

“Relax.”

His eyes flew open to find glittering blue ones gazing serenely back at him.

His breath died in his throat, his mouth went slack from shock, and just for a split second Yuuri forgot where he was, forgot what he was panicking about, because in that split second Yuuri realized it was the first time that the man had looked at him in the eyes.

This revelation was followed by several more. They weren't falling. They hovered quite still in the air, gently rocking in time with the slight breeze. The man was still chest to back with him, arms wrapped around him in secure embrace. Warm, soft palms held his hands, raising them slightly as if he was lifting him up. Yuuri’s hat suddenly whipped past them in the wind, and the man’s arm shot out and grabbed it, settling it back on Yuuri’s head before he gripped his hand again with a smile.

“Now then. Just extend your legs and start walking.”

He began to demonstrate, slowly kicking one foot in front of the other. They floated forward slowly, as if the man's efforts weren’t enough to move the two of them alone. Yuuri felt as though his mind had been turned off, his body moving without thought as he shakily joined in, and their speed picked up to a leisurely pace.

They were quite literally strolling through the sky, nonchalant as if they were still in the streets below. Yuuri’s eyes still felt wet and his mouth was still open, his feet scraping over nothing but deep blue, the candle golden sun positively beating against his back. Yuuri had never even imagined how different the world could look from up above, how the sky was a shade darker from left to right, how small that everything below him actually was. He could just barely make out upturned faces, pointing in their direction. He tried to imagine the scene from their perspective, a couple sauntering casually in midair, no idea or explanation for how they got there.

He felt all of his emotions come back to him at once, an immense wash of relief and bewildered delight that rose from his gut, and there was nothing he could do to stop the resulting laughter, pouring from his lips and carried away by the wind.

“You see?” The man hummed, leaning forward to meet Yuuri’s eyes with a grin. “You're a natural!”

Yuuri didn’t trust his voice not to crack and stammer, so he answered with a smile of his own, so wide he felt like his face would split in two. The man’s gaze lingered slightly, eyes bright and curious as they raked over Yuuri’s face. Yuuri felt his heartbeat pick up again, but this time it wasn’t with fear. It was with a feeling he didn't know and couldn't name. With one of their entwined hands, Yuuri raised his arm and led the stranger into a spin, and the responding laughter sounded just like sunlight.

They started to descend, their feet skimming over the rooftops and kicking at chimney smoke. A flock of birds whipped past them like speeding bullets, a few stray feathers spiraling through the air and then dancing away with the breeze. A flagpole came up directly in their path, and it was almost scary how well they mirrored each other without words, both of their feet hitting the hard surface at the same time and kicking off of it to jump even higher.

Eventually Yuuri came to the realization that a building in the distance was getting nearer and nearer, and eventually he recognized it to be the amphitheater that hosted Phichit’s circus. Yuuri felt a pang of sadness so intense that it actually hurt; he didn’t want this to end. At a pace that he felt was far too fast, they came level with the fourth story of the building, in front of one of the balconies that were attached to the backstage rooms. Yuuri touched down gently to the floor while the man perched weightlessly on the railing above him.

The sun had finally started to set, a vivid and beautiful backdrop of fire and magenta suede, perfectly complementing the vivid and beautiful man who stood before it. His silvery hair was lit up like a halo, a slight smile touching his lips as he gazed down at Yuuri with a slightly cocked head. One of Yuuri’s hands was still locked in the man’s grasp, and neither of them moved to let go.

“They’ll still be looking for us, so I’ll lure them away. Avoid going outside for a couple of hours. Can you do that for me?”

Yuuri nodded, smiling shyly and trying to ignore the feeling of blood rushing up to his face.

The man gave one last brilliant smile, bending to brush Yuuri’s knuckles across his lips.

“Until next time, then.”

And he stepped backward off of the railing with a near theatrical flair, his coat flapping gently and hair swirling gracefully through the air as he plummeted below.

Yuuri lurched forward, hands flying out to grasp the railing in a white knuckled grip and bending far over the edge to watch the man go. The usually empty streets in front of the building were lined with upturned and awe struck faces, but Yuuri didn’t even notice, too busy scanning the through the crowd for a flash of silver hair.

But the man was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT. THE. FUCK. AM. I. DOING.  
> Giving this a lot of thought, that's what I'm doing.  
> This chapter's soundtrack is [Howl's Moving Castle Theme](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=owddukdxFv4) give it a listen if ya feel like it.  
> Follow my [tumblr](http://weeaboobi.tumblr.com/), I scream a lot.  
> I'm gonna try to update this every week, but like. Please be patient. Please be gentle with me. 
> 
> Give this kudos and comments or I will write Yuuri as an old man.


	2. Irremovable Spell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TA DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA  
> I was gonna update every Saturday, but fuck it I got excited. The response has been amazing, thank you so much to everyone who read and especially thank you so much to everyone who left kudos and ESPECIALLY thank you so much to everyone who left comments. You breathed life into me. Do that again, please and thank. Thankyouthankyouthanks.  
> By the way, what day do you think I should update? Does it really matter? Should I just say it'll be around weekend time, keep you guys on your toes?
> 
> Anyways, here's the chapter. I call it: "Yuuri's making his way downtown, he's walking fast.......

“It was Victor.”

“No it wasn’t.”

“It had to be Victor.”

“It couldn’t have been.”

“But it was!” Phichit’s giant hamster cap flopped precariously on his head as he swung from his position on the stretching pole, nearly kicking Yuuri in his haste to face him. “That’s what everyone is saying! ‘The Great and Dreadful Victor kidnapped a townsman and flew across the sky before chucking him into the top story of Circus Phichit’! If you hadn’t just escaped a near death experience, I’d thank you for all the extra business!”

Yuuri sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “One wizard shows up, and everyone just has to go and shout ‘Victor’. Besides, it really wasn’t like that...”

Unfortunately, in one regard, Phichit was right. The Circus was packed more than ever before, every seat stacked and every aisle lined with people who were scanning the audience for a kidnap victim to interrogate rather than paying attention to the actual show. The balcony where the apparent wizard had literally dropped off Yuuri had been attached to the highest room in the amphitheater, a backstage room concealed in the rafters, where the trapeze artists and tightrope walkers warmed up and entered the spotlight. The door had exactly two exits: one with that led to a stairwell, and a small trap door that emptied into nothing but the open stadium. Yuuri had poked his head through this door exactly once, took one look down at the gossip hungry crowds gathering below, and then firmly shut the door again. He wasn’t leaving the room until there wasn’t a soul left in the building 

It was much more to Yuuri’s taste this way, anyhow. He had a small wooden chair pulled up to the one way glass window in the wall, where he could see the entire show in peace and quiet. The performers that came and went knew him well enough to know that he didn’t have anything exciting to say, so they didn’t bother him at all. 

On the stage at that moment they were performing a fairly new piece that Yuuri had never seen before. Rope dancers clung to blood red sashes while crowds of acrobats contorted in shimmering, vividly colored bodysuits beneath them, and up above in the foreground a trapeze artist was the clear star of the show. He was covered from the neck down in intricately laid silver and black feathers, a rather terrifying mask with a fierce curved beak and beady blackened eyes on his face. His performance almost melancholy, soaring high above the other performers all by himself.

“-Yuuuuri! _Yuuri!_ ”

“Huh?” He grunted, turning his head back to where Phichit still straddled the vertical stretching pole. 

“I was talking to you! I asked you to tell me what he was like!”

“Who?”

Phichit threw a nearby towel at him. “Who else, you dolt! I’m talking about Victor!”

“It wasn’t Victor.”

“I’m not asking you who he was, I’m asking you to tell me about him already!”

Yuuri let his eyes drift back over to the performers as he mulled over the question. Leaving that balcony and walking into the circus where Phichit was waiting for him was jarring, like walking out of a dream and into the real world without even blinking his eyes. And as if that wasn’t hard enough to accept that he hadn’t imagined the whole ordeal, it felt like everyone around him was convinced that an actual fairy tale had leaped off the pages of a storybook and taken role in it too. Yuuri could accept that it was a wizard that had whisked him into the sky, but he wasn’t even going to entertain the possibility of _the_ Victor being said wizard. That was just...a whole other level of impossible.

Yuuri sighed, folding his hands on the sill of the window and resting his head on top of them. His mind already had enough on its plate. He had no idea how to organize his thoughts on the experience and put them to words, and if he had it his way he would just ignore Phichit’s question and continue to watch the show. But Phichit was one of the few people in his life that actually deserved the effort it would take, so he tried his best.

“He was...weird.” Yuuri didn’t look at Phichit, his eyes facing the window but focused on something far away. “Unpredictable. A little terrifying. But he was also…kind. He was very kind to me. He saved me from a couple of drunk soldiers and...other things.”

“Of course he was kind to you,” Phichit’s face was grave as he gripped onto the pole and swung upside down, wrapping one leg around it to support his weight while his arms stretched back into a contortion. “He was trying to get you to lower your guard so he could steal your heart and eat it. You’re lucky to be alive.”

Outside, the feathered man was beginning to win the audience’s attention, swinging high into the air and turning graceful somersaults as he swooped to and fro. A gaggle of ribbon gymnasts had joined the acrobats on stage, twirling their satin streamers upwards like they were trying to reach him, but the feathered man swerved away from their attention and glided higher out of their reach.

Yuuri tapped his fingers pensively. Sure, the man who had run with him in the alleyway was bizarre and spontaneous, which everyone knew were the staples of a Victor story. Yet, the wizard he had heard about for so long had always seemed so...cold. An untouchable and unreachable brute who did what he pleased, who shook the foundation of reality and disappeared before he could get caught. The man Yuuri had met in the alleyway was so...warm. And light. He held Yuuri gently and brought him home safely, and he never tried to rip out Yuuri’s heart.

“Victor or not, that seemed like the last thing that was going to happen, Phichit. Besides, isn’t Victor only supposed to steal hearts from the pretty ones? I think I’ll be safe.”

Phichit swung down from the pole again, this time purposefully knocking his foot into Yuuri’s head. “Don’t give me that. How am I supposed to trust your judgement when you can’t even see something as dumb as your looks?”

Yuuri’s mind drifted to chiseled alabaster skin and mischievous blue eyes, his cheeks heating up against his will. “Pretty and pretty enough for a wizard are two different things.”

Phichit sighed, going back to his half-hearted warm-up. “Yeah, you’re totally gonna have your heart torn out one day. You’re hopeless.”

Yuuri ignored him again as a performer bustled into their sanctuary, shrouded in black and rubbing talcum powder over her hands.

“Ready in five, Phichit.”

“I’m aware, thanks.”

The performer swung the trap door open and then hurtled into the stadium, latching firmly onto one of the swinging trapeze bars and gliding towards the feathered man. She let go of the bar with a graceful flip, latching onto the man’s forearm on the downswing, the two of them soaring higher into the air with the momentum. 

“Still, though!” Phichit’s grave face and serious voice fell away to sunny disposition so fast that you would’ve missed it if you’d blinked, skipping merrily around his pole. “Whether you think it was Victor or not, that doesn’t change the fact that the entire town is sure it was him.”

“The entire town hasn’t ever seen Victor before, Phichit.”

“So? All of the traveling merchants who saw you guys swear up and down that it was him, and that’s all anyone else needed. As far as everyone is concerned, you are the first person in town to have ever seen Victor and live to tell the tale. This is going to be the talk of the the kingdom! You’re going to be famous!”

Yuuri buried his face in his arms, taking a shaky breath. “Don’t say that, Phichit. We were high up in the air and everyone was too busy looking at the wizard, they won’t remember me.”

“Never say never, Yuuri,” Phichit winked, wagging his finger. “You’re a pretty distinguishable sight. And in Victor’s arms, I’d daresay you’re damn near un-forgettable!”

Yuuri’s face flushed with embarrassment, groaning as he buried his face even deeper into his arms.

Meanwhile, the crowd of acrobats on the stage had grown thicker, balancing themselves on each others shoulders and transforming into human-wheels. There were two vertical poles mounted either side of the stage which the performers scaled with almost inhumane ease. Yuuri peeked up at them through his tightly folded arms, the buzz in his mind quieting momentarily as the acrobats spun gracefully, twisting their arms to the ceiling to reach out for the pair that swung high above them.

“You should perform for me, you know. Quit your job at the villa. Your mom would agree.”

Yuuri tensed up, slowly burying his face back in his arms. The way Phichit jumped so fast from cheerful and carefree to sombre and stone faced was really disconcerting sometimes. It hardly gave Yuuri any time to prepare himself. This conversation, in particular, came up every now and again, always ending the same way. Yet Phichit refused to let it drop. 

“You don’t want me to perform here.” Yuuri’s muffled voice could just barely be heard, tightly folding around himself as though he were trying to form a shell.

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want it.” Phichit abandoned his pole altogether and walked over to where Yuuri sat, plunging his hands into the heap of dejected Yuuri without hesitation to grasp his face and lift it so they were looking each other in the eyes. “I’ve seen what you can do so many times, Yuuri. You have talent. I don’t just say these things to hear myself talk, you know.”

Yuuri yanked his head out of his grasp, turning away from him with a sad little attempt at a laugh. “Sometimes it really seems like you do, Phichit.”

Outside the crowd was fully arrested, cheering loudly as the winged man and the woman in black swung deep and low, back and forth. The man snatched the woman by her wrists and hoisted her to the next bar, springing from his own with a back flip just before he went crashing into the walls. The woman grasped him by his ankles in the nick of time, sending the audience into a frenzy of applause as the man swung upside down high over their heads, his arms spread wide, feathers flashing underneath the lights. 

“Listen to me, Yuuri.” Phichit craned his head, trying to make eye contact with Yuuri again. “I don’t know how many times I’ve got to say this, but I’m willing to say it as much as I need to to get it to stick. You can’t stay in the villa forever.”

Yuuri subtly began to tapping his foot, chin tucked into his chest. 

“Nobody wants that for you. Not even your family.”

The tapping got faster. 

“You need to do something that you want to do. Something that’s just for you. It’s your life, Yuuri, and you’re only gonna live it once. You weren’t meant to spend it heating up baths for old people. Anyone with eyes can see that.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you still there? Do you feel obligated to your family or something?”

“No, that’s not it,” Yuuri mumbled. 

“Then what?”

Yuuri stayed silent, staring at the performers on stage. 

Phichit sighed, following his gaze out of the window. “The performance is almost over, then it’s my cue.” He stood up and walked over to the trap door, glancing over his shoulder at Yuuri as he rubbed powder over his hands. “We aren’t done talking about this.”

The trapeze woman had zipped away from the feathered man somewhere along the line, disappearing into the rafters and leaving him alone on the stage once more. His performance became more frenzied, soaring higher, leaping farther, just barely landing on the bars with the tips of his fingers as though he were Icarus flying too close to the sun. 

“Okay.”

Phichit nodded, turning his back on Yuuri and facing the door. “The only reason we bother you about this so much is because we care, you know. I wish you would open up to us a little more.”

With a great, final swoop, the feathered man launched himself high into the air, not a single bar left for him to clutch at. The audience screamed as the man spread his useless wings in vain, toppling down, down, down, into the arms of the writhing acrobats below. 

 

~~~~

 

As the program reached a close Yuuri found that he had a decision of enormous consequence at hand: whether he should wait out the crowd to avoid being noticed, or whether he should leave early to avoid Phichit. 

He tapped his fingers nervously as he knelt to hold open the trap door in the rafters, watching the crowd trickle out of the stadium. He felt sick to his stomach at the thought of being identified as “the man who was with Victor”, but he was not sure how much more lecturing he could handle before he broke down. And he knew, for better or for worse, that Phichit would try to pick up the conversation where they had left it off. 

Yuuri’s knees were starting to hurt from being bent for so long, his frown getting so deep his head started to hurt as it weighed his options. Maybe, just maybe, if he left while the crowd was still thick he could escape being noticed. Surely, after hours of thrilling and exciting performances, the whole wizard incident would be driven from everyone’s mind? And he really had been high off of the ground; his hat had probably been his most identifying feature, so if he took it off, then maybe no one would even recognize him.

Yuuri let out a sigh, slamming the trap door shut and walking over to the one that led to the stairwell, his mind finally made up. Yes, this seemed like the safest course of action. If he kept his head down and slipped into the rush of the crowd, no one would be any of the wiser that he was there. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants before gripping the door handle firmly, starting to turn it so that he could leave. 

_“They’ll still be looking for us, so I’ll lure them away. Avoid going outside for a couple of hours, can you do that for me?”_

Yuuri froze, the door knob twisting back into place with a click. The man had told him to wait. He said that the blob-creatures would still be out looking for him. Yuuri stepped back from the door, doubt flooding his mind again. He'd take an autographing session with the entire town plus an all-night heart to heart with Phichit over running into those creatures again. He shuddered at the thought of them finding him in the dark, all alone with no handsome wizard to whisk him into the sky.

But it had been a few hours, surely the wizard would've headed them off by now? He couldn’t imagine the monsters maintaining much interest in him, not when they had a much more valuable, magical thing to chase. Besides, it really was dark out, and while the creepy atmosphere would not do wonders for Yuuri’s nerves, it would at least make it more difficult to see his face. 

Surely it would be alright. 

Yuuri twisted the doorknob quickly before he could change his mind again, wincing at the long, drawn out creak of the door sliding open. He peeked outside with just the tip of his head, keeping an eye out for Phichit. When the cold, echoey stairwell showed no signs of life, Yuuri released a quiet exhale and slid out from the room, holding the door while it shut so that it wouldn’t slam. He turned and began his descent, clutching tight to the railing and wincing as the ancient wooden steps groaned beneath his feet. He stumbled further and further down, as quickly and quietly as he could, holding his breath every time he rounded a corner and releasing it when Phichit was nowhere in sight.

When he finally reached the bottom floor Yuuri had to pause to bend over with his hands on his knees, chest heaving for breath. Four flights of stairs combined with nervous hyperventilating did not make a winning combo, it seemed. _If only I had a wizard who could've floated me down_ , Yuuri thought. Then he kicked himself for having stupid thoughts.

His breathing slowed but his heartbeat didn’t, facing the final door that separated him from the safety of the ‘employees only’ sign to the general public of the stadium. His gulp was audible in the silence of the stairwell as he repeated what he had done with the backstage door upstairs, easing it open just a crack, as slowly as he could, before peeking out. The sliver of light that slipped in through the crack was constantly blotted out as the shadows of body after body passed in front of it, the jarring clatter of voices making Yuuri feel as if he had turned up a volume knob. He waited several more moments, his forehead resting on the door, hand still frozen on the knob.

 _It’s like a super secret mission_ , Yuuri thought to himself, trying to turn the situation into something more fun and exciting. _We’re raiding enemy territory in disguise, and we have to keep our identity hidden. We can’t let anyone know we’re here, or the mission is failed._

It wasn’t helping.

Shakily taking off his hat, he pressed it behind his back and scooted through the door, sliding as subtly into the crowd as he possibly could. No one glanced twice at him, prattling obnoxiously amongst themselves as they bustled along. So far so good. 

It seemed that the narrow entrance of the amphitheater was not made to accommodate such a large body of people trying to leave at once; the crowd was packed tight together, moving forward in dreadfully, tortuously slow inches. Little beads of sweat pricked at the back of Yuuri’s neck as trepidation rose with each passing second, waiting for someone to point and recognize him or for Phichit to surface amongst the waves of faces. Or maybe it was just from the heat of all the bodies that surrounded him. Yuuri scrubbed a hand across his brow. _I’ve had it up to here with bodies today._

Yuuri couldn’t shake the image of a horde of cattle, ambling slowly and thoughtlessly towards a slaughterhouse. The air around him was thick and uncomfortably warm, the cacophony of voices seeming to get louder and louder. Yuuri felt like his tongue was too thick for his mouth, his pulse thundering in his ears as he tensed when someone’s eyes drifted over him, froze when someone’s limbs brushed against him.

Eventually, Yuuri could just make out the light of the outside through the sea of bobbing heads, flickering in and out of his sight as the crowd shifted and moved. The air got slightly cooler and less stuffy as he got closer and closer, a taunting taste of the freedom that was just dangling in front of his face. 

He was trying so hard not to bring attention to himself but it got so much more difficult the closer he was, his breath coming out in gasps, his fingers twitching, waiting for someone to notice him and praying that they wouldn’t. There weren’t that many people in front of him now and the doors were right in his line of sight, but then the crowd came to a stuttering halt. Yuuri choked on air, his heart nearly exploding in his chest, trying to stifle the noises that were threatening to escape him and his vision getting blurrier and blurrier and the doors were _right there..._

“Sir?”

Yuuri froze. 

“Sir, are you alright? You don’t look so good…”

Yuuri hadn’t noticed he had been swaying slightly on the spot, a lady who was next to him grabbing his forearm to keep him from doubling over. The arm that was in her grasp held the hat that he was so desperately trying to hide, trembling slightly as his hands shook. His eyes twitched downwards reflexively, trying to figure out what to do, how to shift it from her sight without her noticing. Her eyes followed his and he cursed himself mentally as she dragged them back up to his face before widening in recognition.

He was caught. 

“Wait a second…! You’re-”

_Mission abort._

Yuuri yanked himself free, white noise rushing in his ears and restraint broken. He moved on pure reflex, shoving people out of his way, making a desperate break for the door like the building was on fire. Affronted cries and curses were hurled at his back as he bulldozed his way to freedom, not slowing down even as the cool night air washed over his heated skin, angling himself away from the stream of people that had emptied into the streets as he tore out of the building.

The revelation of his identity as “the man who was with Victor” seemed to spread quite rapidly, the people closest to the entrance of the theatre shouting and chasing after him.

“Wait! Come back!”

“Sir, please tell us what Victor did, we only want to help!”

“We’re on your side! If he cursed you, we need to alert the military immediately and-!” 

Yuuri ignored them as he legged it into the back roads, his chest burning but not daring to stop for a breath. Fortunately, it seemed like none of them were concerned enough to follow him into such a shady district; Yuuri lost sight of them rather quickly. He slowed to a speed walk, swallowing thickly as he let his breathing creep back to a normal pace. The danger appeared to have passed, but Yuuri ended up deciding to take a different route than he usually did, just to be sure. He didn’t want anyone tailing him in secret. 

Head still buzzing and nerves still frazzled from the close shave in the theater, he let his body work on autopilot, feet leading him mindlessly through twists and turns, ducking into alleyways with little thought. His mind was so preoccupied that he hardly even looked around to see where he was going, what was in his path, and when something came up directly in line with his pace he was powerless to stop himself in time. His foot caught on it and sent him sprawling to the ground. He groaned, rubbing his stinging hands over his pants and getting to his feet, looking around for the offending item that tripped him. His hands closed around it and he lifted it closer to his face, adjusting his glasses as he tried to make out what it was in the dark.

It was a ribboned straw hat. 

He gasped, flinging it away from him as if it were piping hot, his head whipping frantically on his shoulders as he looked around. His consciousness zoomed back into the present, fully taking in his surroundings for the first time since he’d started walking. 

He’d been subconsciously mirroring the path he had run through earlier that day, hand in hand with a silver haired man who could make magic.

He darted around in a flustered circle, his eyes sweeping diligently over the cracks in the streets and the holes in the walls for any signs of the dripping black ooze. The momentary panic faded away when there was none to be found; the streets were utterly lifeless, completely clean, void of any evidence of what had occurred there.

He remembered a crash of glass, furniture flying through the air and piling in the middle of the street. But there wasn’t a footstool to be found, all of the furniture unblemished, unharmed, and caged by a display window that was smooth and without a crack. Yuuri remembered the impromptu fireworks display, but there wasn’t a lifeless black blob in sight, nor a fleck of ash or the lingering smell of gunpowder. In fact, if it weren’t for the ribboned hat that he’d picked up from the middle of the road, Yuuri would have wondered if he _had_ imagined the whole thing after all. 

It was almost like someone had left it there for him. 

_I can’t believe that really happened._

These were streets that he knew like the back of his hand, quiet and tranquil, just the way he was used to them.You would’ve never been able to guess that they were the scene of something remarkable. Yet the memories were rushing through him without command, the ghost of a large, warm hand prickling in his palms and and the slap of wet, gelatinous footsteps echoing in his ears. He could almost feel the adrenaline, the way his heart beat with excitement, but memories would only ever be memories, traced with feelings that he would never experience again. Because that was the thing with magic, with wizards, with adventures and courage. Whether he liked it or not, they would only ever be stories to a person like Yuuri: experienced from the outside, never meant to live them.

_I can’t believe that the person who walked across the sky was me._

 

~~~

 

When Yuuri finally made his way to the trolley station, the last minute bell was clanging in the still, quiet air. 

Yuuri broke into a sprint, leaping onto the step at the last second yet again. He overshot slightly, having to reach out and clutch the pole railing to keep himself from smacking face first into the trolley door. There didn’t appear to be anyone inside yet, but Yuuri still preferred to stay on the step, leaning against the pole and letting his temple touch the cool metal. He felt a beautiful sense of calm, standing there in the silent night with his eyes closed. Nothing touched his senses but the gentle ambiance of the trolley gliding over the tracks, the familiar feeling of the crisp night air caressing his face. His head felt clearer than it had been all day. 

It wasn't that he wanted to stay at the hot spring. The idea of feeling obligated to stay because of his family was laughable; his parents wanted him gone almost as much as Phichit did. Nor was it that he didn’t enjoy practicing acrobatics with Phichit, messing around backstage on the stretching bars and taking turns pushing each other on the trapeze. But he couldn’t accept Phichit’s offer. Not when he knew him so personally, not when his self taught dabble was so mediocre compared to the hired professionals. He refused to take a job where his skills weren’t enough to speak for himself, only handed to him from the pity of the boss. He would hold everyone back. He’d be looked down on. He couldn’t accept that.

Life at the bathhouse was simple. Wash a robe, heat a bath, kiss his mother and say hi to Phichit. Things like this were perfectly within his pay-grade, weren’t complicated at all. It was a job he could do without screwing everything up.

Yet his parents’ worried faces had become staples in his mind, Phichit’s lectures growing increasingly more frequent. Everyone was insistent that now was the time for Yuuri to make a decision, to take a leap into the unknown and carve out his future. And even though the unknown was terrifying, and decision making ranked near the top of the long list of things he was horrible at, Yuuri couldn’t seem to hold down the part of himself, deep inside, that found life at the villa mundane.That quietly yearned for more.

There was a brief moment, as they passed from one neighborhood to the next, that there wasn’t a building in sight to block his view of the Waste. The rolling plains of rippling grass seemed to stretch forever, the hills rising and falling as though the land itself was breathing. The sea of green and tree-speckled meadows melted seamlessly into dark, snow-capped mountains that loomed over the entire scene, shooting higher into the star studded sky than Yuuri could even make out. Everything was washed out, muted colors of grey and blue-black underneath the pale light of the full moon.

 _I wonder what I need now_ , Yuuri thought, resting his head against the hands that were curled around the rail. _I wonder what I can do so that I can find my way on my own._

 

~~~

 

When Yuuri finally reached his stop, the wild events of the day had finally begun to catch up with him. Exhaustion ached through every muscle of his body; he felt as though an invisible stack of bricks had been stuck to his shoulders, his bones replaced with lead. His feet caught on cracks in the road as he dragged his heavy body through the neighborhood, the people who passed him drunk on the night life and far too lively for his tastes.

When he finally approached the villa he nearly moaned a sigh of relief, his turtle’s pace picking up very slightly in his eagerness. The effort it took to lift each of his feet up the porch steps was excruciating, having to grab the rail to balance himself as his head got a tad dizzy. The front door opened with a little chime of the bell. Yuuri clicked the lock shut behind him before his sleep addled brain let him forget. 

The entire lobby was pitch black. Yuuri dragged his hands blindly up the wall, feeling around until his fingers brushed over the metal bite of an oil lamp. He lifted it off of its hook, twisting the knob until a tiny flicker of flame appeared. 

It took several minutes for the lamp to heat up enough to coax the room somewhat out of the darkness. All he could make out were black outlined shapes, cloaked and distorted in the waning, shuddering light . Everything touched by the lamp’s dim glow was cast in flickering shadows, almost alive as they danced eerily across the walls, pulsing and mutating before disappearing entirely. It made Yuuri feel like he was being followed. 

At that moment Yuuri wanted nothing more than to go upstairs, throw himself in bed, and succumb to the vivid dreams that would no doubt be born of his incredibly odd day. But first he needed to clean up his workstation in the break room, collect the robes he had managed to repair and take them to the lobby for the customers to access in the morning.

He trudged up the stairs, blinking heavily as he shoved open the break room door. He paused briefly, overlooking his little desk under the window in the corner that was still strewn with the mess he’d abandoned before he left for the day. It had only been hours since he’d sat there, struggling to concentrate on sewing holes in robes, yet it felt like it was years ago. He snapped himself from his reverie, pushing the ripped robes to the sides and folding the repaired ones neatly. After stacking them into a basket he made his way out the door, locking it behind him. 

With his arms full of the basket, the hand clutching the oil lamp was rendered immobile and locked to the right, making it slightly harder to see in front of him. He descended the stairs carefully, feeling around with his toes for purchase before putting his weight on his feet. The basket in his hands felt heavier by the second, his exhaustion worn muscles trembling beneath the load. When he finally plopped the basket on the front desk he let out a sigh of relief, shaking the strain from his arms.

 _I’ll sort it out tomorrow, before the inn opens. If I can manage to wake up, that is._ Yuuri stuffed a fist behind his glasses and scrubbed his sleepy eyes, the thought of sleep so euphoric that as he turned his back on the lobby, it almost escaped his notice: a silhouette in the corner of his eye, a black outlined shape that was not supposed to be there.

There was someone by the front door. 

Yuuri jumped, the oil lamp sliding from his slackened grip and crashing to the ground with a jarring clang. The room was swallowed in darkness once more. He was nearly immobilized by the intense series of chills that were racing up and down his spine, his hair standing on end and mouth open in a silent gasp.

He couldn’t see anything.

Exhausted as he was moments before, he was completely awake now, dropping to his knees and hands searching frantically over the floor, blindly fumbling for the lamp. His nerves jumped higher with every passing second as his trembling fingers grasped at nothing but air, on empty hardwood floor, his short, panicked breaths deafening in the deadly silence.

 _It could just be a confused customer_ , Yuuri tried to reassure himself, even though he had a horrible feeling settled deep in his gut. _Maybe if they realize that I saw them they’ll be scared and go away._

“I'm sorry, but operating hours are over,” he called out into the dark, trying and failing to keep his voice from shaking. “I was sure I had locked the door, but I suppose it was my mistake. Please feel free to come back tomorrow.”

For a long time, there was only silence, and Yuuri stilled his movements on the ground, staring around helplessly into the pitch black darkness. His breathing slowed marginally, daring to hope that he had imagined the dark figure in the corner. Then, Yuuri’s lungs froze altogether as sound echoed around the room: ominous, slowly clacking footsteps, getting closer and closer.

“So this is the face that wooed a heartless man. I would've expected it to be less...plain.” 

A few feet away from where Yuuri had been searching, the oil lamp flickered back to life on its own with a sinister, glowing green light. Yuuri was frozen in place, his eyes wide and terrified on the pointy heeled boots that came into view directly in front of him. Yuuri’s lifted his gaze slowly, taking in the person who loomed over him as he knelt on the floor. 

He was wearing a robe that flowed all the way down to his ankles, but that was way too modest of a description for it. It was made of silky black satin that clung to his figure in the most sinful way, embroidered in weaving, apple red patterns that wound up his arms and curled over his shoulders. A slit started from the tip of his right shoulder and expanded the length of his entire body in a clean, diagonal slice. It traveled in a sensual curve over his chest, the tease of creamy skin briefly interrupted at his left hip, where a giant moonstone that clasped the two pieces of fabric together seemed to be the only thing keeping his robe from flapping open and exposing his entire front. Then the slit continued its journey all the way down the length of the robe, leaving one long, smooth leg exposed. He had curly tawny hair that was shaved in an undercut. Long, shiny lashes framed a pair of mesmerizing green eyes. He was striking. Yuuri knew that his face must’ve been bright red; he felt almost embarrassed, like he was looking at something pornographic, yet he couldn’t stop staring. In fact, he was so at a loss for words that he almost forgot that he had just been insulted.

Once the man’s comment sunk in, he felt an intense stab of anger and humiliation. It struck a nerve in Yuuri quite hard, which was surprising, considering he had no idea what the man was talking about. 

“I'm sorry, sir, but we’re closed,” Yuuri’s voice returned with a tad more bite, glaring at the man with as much muster as his measly courage allowed. The desire to have the man gone won over his fear of him as Yuuri shakily got to his feet, striding back over to the front door and yanking it open with an aggressive ding. “You can come back again in the morning.”

The man tossed back his head and laughed. The glow of the lamp on the ground was getting brighter, stronger in a way that was physically impossible of its vessel. It crept slowly over its surroundings, over the man who stood before it, and as he was washed in green light his demeanor began to shift. The shadows that were cast over his face kept bulging and waning, distorting his features in a bizarre back and forth of appeal and menace, mouth dancing from smirk to snarl, eyes flickering between mirth and dangerous intent..

“Standing up to the Witch of the Waste! My, aren’t you just adorable.”

Yuuri realized that he had just made a colossal mistake

He felt something warm and sticky drip onto his shoulder. Yuuri recoiled with a gasp, whirling on the spot to look behind him. Lurking on the door frame, not even two inches away from him, were a pair of blob creatures, so black that they would’ve blended into the night if it weren’t for their outlandish bellhop uniforms. They swayed into the entrance, staggering towards him, one of their hands still pressed to Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri backed away slowly, his muscles tense and ready to spring. He turned on his heel without warning and tried to run, hoping to catch them by surprise, but the arm around his shoulder stuck to him like glue, snapping him back like a rubber band. Their oozing limbs closed around him tighter, completely impervious as Yuuri thrashed violently, trying to break free. One of their dripping, finger-less hands curled around his mouth as he opened it to scream, a vile, cloyingly sweet taste exploding across his tongue.

The glow from the lamp had now washed the entire room in that inhuman, fervid green light, so intensely bright that Yuuri’s vision started to white out, tears streaming down his face. It was getting harder to keep his eyes on The Witch, but Yuuri could just make him out as his feet started lifting from the ground, levitating in the air with his arms splayed open and his eyes closed. In that moment, Yuuri was certain that his life was about to end.

It all happened at once. The Witch’s eyes flew open, and he swooped forward, so fast that Yuuri could only make out the light of his eyes, glowing like a pair of oil lamps and zooming closer and closer until all he could see was piercing green. All his fight was gone, replaced by dreadful acceptance settling deep in his gut as he closed his eyes at the last second, tears streaming down his face, his scream muffled by the gelatinous hand that held him still. Then he felt a cold, searing pain shoot straight through his heart, like he was shot in the chest with an ice carved bullet. 

The blob monsters finally released him and he went crashing to his knees, his arms hugging tight around his middle as he fought the urge to vomit. The lamp had gone out and it was dark once more…

When the Witch spoke again, he was behind him.

“I’ve never seen the curse take that form before, that’s quite interesting. It should do the trick, anyhow. And the best part is, you can’t tell anyone about it.”

The Witch of the Waste turned on his heel and strode towards the door, the blob monsters standing at attention on either side of him as he passed, like a royal guard. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, turning to stare at Yuuri’s crumpled form on the ground with a slight frown on his face. 

“I hope you won't take it personally. It’s a selfish thing, to want Victor’s heart all for yourself.”

And the door shut behind him. 

 

~~~

 

Yuuri didn’t move for a long time.

He was curled up on the floor, his arms wrapped around himself, gasping quietly as tears dripped down his face. Never in his life had he felt so much fear. He stuffed a fist in his mouth to keep sounds from escaping, to keep anyone from waking up and rushing to ask what was wrong. 

He had been so certain in his oncoming death that he actually had to adjust to the sensation of being alive, slowly taking in the subsiding ringing in his ears, the dull pain in his chest that throbbed like a bruise, the taste of dust as he gulped deep breaths with his face against the floor.

He sat up, eyes blinking in the darkness, a couple stray tears falling to his open palms where he balanced them on his knees. He curled his fingers into a fist and released them. _I’m alive_ , he thought. _I really am…_

But as his senses came back to him, so did the feeling that something was off. Something was out of place. He ran his hands up and down his body, feeling around to make sure he was all there. His limbs were all in place, his clothes without a tear, his face deathly cold but smooth and untouched, his confusion mounted higher as he raised a hand to run through his hair-

He was wearing a cloak. 

_Huh?_

He ran his hands over his head again, his fingers gliding over a smooth fabric hood. Why was he wearing a cloak? Yuuri closed his hands around it to tug the hood off. 

It wouldn’t budge.

A jolt of shock, a flash of panic, he tugged even harder, but the hood refused to give. His fingers fumbled at the clasp around his neck, trying to loosen and tug. To his horror, the fabric furled tighter around his neck like a boa constrictor, twitching slightly as if it were displeased.

He couldn’t take it off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ............Christophe passed and he's cursed now *nanana nanana naaaaa, nuh na nuh nanana nanana naaaa*"
> 
> Okay. First of all, if I got any huge Chris fans in the house who MIGHT be upset, this is the part where I ask you to trust me. Trust in my artistic direction. I love Chris more than all of you combined and I have huge plans for him.
> 
> *combs through every single one of Chris's individual eyelashes with a specially made comb* I'm gonna develop the shit outta you....
> 
> Speaking of which:  
>   
> here is the dress that inspired Chris's robes for this fic. Tell me that isn't something this boy would rock. Tell me it isn't. Do you trust me now?
> 
> Okay, that aside, I also want to address something serious. So this is the chapter that reveals the curse I have planned for Yuuri. This was the hardest aspect of the story for me to come to a decision about. I didn't want to go with old age like in the movie, because for one thing, with the sheer amount of physical affection and flirting I have planned for Victor and Yuuri...idk I'd just feel uncomfortable writing him as an old man lol.  
> More importantly though, the curse of old age was specially tailored to Sophie's character. Her character suffered from self image issues, disliked her appearance, and thus had her appearance altered into an old woman's to target her insecurities. Yuuri's character issues are a tad more complex than this, and it would be a disservice to give him a curse that doesn't reflect him as a character...won't say more than that. Telling and not showing = bad story telling, boys and girls. But again, trust me. I know what I'm doing.  
> Hope no one's let down. *crosses fingers*
> 
> There's no soundtrack this time around, because Youtube Copyright claims are a thing. What the fuck. But if you're a nerd (like me) and you've bought the soundtrack to Howl's Moving Castle (which I doubt you have) listen to "The Witch of the Waste".  
> Follow my [tumblr](http://weeaboobi.tumblr.com/) I scream a lot. 
> 
> Give this kudos/comments or I write Chris as a one dimensional evil overlord.


	3. Yuuri in Exile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course the one chapter with the MOST italics and bolds I've used so far happens to be the one that I have to upload on mobile. Fml. 
> 
> If there are any mistakes, I'm gonna go back and fix them once I'm off this god forsaken autocorrect spouting robot.

_Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump **THUNK.**_

Yuuri's worst nightmares were all coming true in not even twenty four hours.

He had stayed awake all night, lying catatonic on his back and staring blankly at the ceiling above him. Over and over again, in his head, he told himself to just go to sleep and that everything would be back to normal when he awoke, but even when the barest hints of sunshine started peeking in through the window he stayed painfully awake. By whatever time and under whatever miracle he finally managed to slip into rest, he was jolted out of it far too soon to the feeling of something prodding at his cheek gently. Then he blinked his burning eyes open to the sight of glasses being dangled tauntingly in front of his face by a piece of fabric…

Fast forward a bit and now here he was, shutting the hem of a cloak inside his bedroom door and running full throttle in the opposite direction, desperately trying to yank it from his head. 

_Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump **THUNK.**_

This attempt went the same way as the many attempts before it, the clasp on his neck nearly choking him as he reached the end of his tether and was yanked back, tumbling full-bodied to the ground. Yuuri sat up, moaning slightly at the throbbing pain in his tailbone, burying his face in his hands and letting out a shaky breath. The cloak was thrashing violently from where it trailed behind him, the hem still stuck in the doorframe. It felt like someone had a firm hold of it from behind and was pumping their arm up and down as fast as they could. But there was no one behind him. It was moving by itself.

 _It’s moving by itself_ , Yuuri repeated the thought numbly in his head, his hands dragging down his face before they fell slack in his lap.

His room had become a battleground. There were broken blades all over the floor, from when Yuuri took pair after pair of shearing scissors to the hood. Singe marks and burns peppered his clothes and skin, from where he tried to burn the clasp at his throat only to have it remain perfectly intact. 

And the cloak had not remained docile and tolerant in the face of his attacks, either. Oh no. It had shown itself to be a truly formidable opponent. It met each of Yuuri’s offenses head on with a ferocious bite. Furniture had ended up overturned, curtains were slashed to ribbons, every loose object was out of its place and scattered across the floor like the bodies of fallen soldiers.

It was a war that had lasted all morning, and the cloak was winning. No matter what Yuuri did, it wouldn’t come off. 

_Why wouldn’t it come off._

Yuuri didn’t know how he got here. He didn’t know what he had done to warrant the horrid, unreasonable turn his life seemed to be taking. He stayed out of trouble. He kept his head down. Yet these things... just kept on happening to him. Any time he tried to make strenuous sense with it all, his conclusion and logic got toppled on its head within the next hour. Was there some sort of connection with all these incidents? Yuuri had no way of knowing. Everything that had happened was so bizarre that it seemed impossible to make any sort of pattern out of them.

 _Focus_ ,Yuuri thought. _Focus. Remember last night…_

There was a man. No, not a man. The Witch of the Waste. The memories vaguely played in Yuuri’s mind, disjointed and slightly clouded by shock and fear. That man had broken into his home. He assaulted him with blob monsters. He cursed him. That’s what this was. It was a curse. Yuuri’s hands began to shake as he stared at the cracks in the floorboard, the writhing of the cloak behind him seeming to get stronger. The man had spoken to him last night as if he was supposed to understand the context of all of this, but none of it made sense! Did he curse the wrong guy?! He called him plain...something about being selfish...? And Victor...he said Victor’s name…

 _Alright. That’s too of a coincidence_ , Yuuri thought to himself, his brow furrowing so hard that his glasses slipped down his nose a bit. _So is that it? Is he one of the people who thought that it was Victor who was with me yesterday…?_

But then…what about the blob monsters? The Witch seemed to be the one that created and controlled them. Was he the one who had sent them after he and the wizard yesterday...? But...that would mean...

Yuuri’s hands shot up to his head, furling in his hair and tugging harshly to try and ground himself. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. Nothing in his life had been making sense since yesterday. He had to stop thinking like this. He had to stop asking “why”. The question “why” wasn’t going to get him anywhere. It was such a stupid, insignificant thing to ask when he still had try and figure out what he was going to do. 

And he had no idea. Not the slimmest, tiniest clue.

Frustration coursing through his body anew, he hopped back to his feet, striding back to the door before turning around and facing the room once more. He took a great steeling breath, bracing himself and poised at the ready to run with all his might. 

_**ThumpthumpthumpTHUNK.** _

The door had swung open, freeing the cloak and sending Yuuri sprawling face- first to the ground. The length of the cloak got hopelessly tangled with Yuuri’s limbs, trapping his arms to his sides like a straight jacket. Yuuri let out a panicked shout, thrashing violently against its hold before it got the chance to try and throttle him. 

“Yuuri, dear?”

Yuuri startled at the sound of the voice, struggling to roll onto his back to face its source.

His mother was staring down on him where he was writhing on the floor. Her face was washed in confusion and hung out to dry in concern, eyes wide with shock and mouth slightly parted as if she had something to say but couldn’t remember it all of a sudden. Which was fair, considering what she had just walked in on. 

“Yuuri, I… are you alright...?”

He jumped to his feet, face burning. His mouth was hanging open like a particularly dumb fish, gaping at her blankly as he tried to conjure up an explanation, an apology, anything, but nothing would come out. Then the hood of his cloak decided it was time to yank as far over his face as it could.

“Yuuri, wh - what’s going on? You’ve been making a lot of noise...”

Reality struck Yuuri like a slap in the face. It was daytime. The inn was open. There were people in the inn. His family, his co-workers, customers, strangers. They were all downstairs, and Yuuri’s room was directly above their heads. They would’ve been able to hear if he so much as walked calmly across the floor, and heaven knows he had been doing so much more than that. Yelling, tipping furniture, the drawers getting ripped open, his footsteps as he ran from the door again and again. They heard everything

_Oh my god...that is so...embarrassing._

“Yuuri, is there something wrong? Do you - do you need help…?

_I’ve been at it for hours. I’ve been at it all morning! I knocked over my wardrobe!_

So lost in his thoughts, Yuuri didn’t notice that his cloak began to tremble and shiver on his head. His mother’s eyes followed its movements, widening to the size of dinner plates.

“Wh - Wha… Yuuri… ?”

_This is horrible. So horrible. How many people came in today? How many people heard me?_

His mother took a slow step back, widening the exit into the hallway by a fraction of an inch. 

It all happened so fast that Yuuri wasn’t even slightly prepared to stop it. The cloak gave a mighty lurch against his head, bowling him past his mother and into the hallway. Yuuri cried out as head hit the opposite wall with a dull thud.

“Yuuri!”

Stars swimming across his eyes, his knees gave out, his body slumping down the wall and crumpling to the floor. Too weak to register what was going on, the cloak gave another mighty shove, rolling him over a few feet to the top of the stairwell.

Then he started rolling down. 

He tumbled and crashed over every step, the combined forces of gravity and the tugging of the cloak yanking him further and further down at an unforgiving pace. Sharp bursts of pain blossomed in different parts of his body with every bump, his head, his back, his arms and his knees. The force of his fall sent him crashing straight through the employee door at the bottom of the stairwell, bright lights assaulting his eyes as he skidded to a painful stop over shiny hardwood floors. He groaned slightly, lying motionless on the ground and giving himself a moment to catch his breath. When it finally sunk in where he was, he scrambled to his feet, nearly fainting as he took in the damage of his stunt.

The inn was crowded. No, it was more than crowded. It was stuffed. Even on their busiest days, they never got this many customers. The line to the front desk crept all the way out of the open front doors, another one pooled beside the uncharacteristically empty linen station where Mari was handing out freshly washed towels from a basket, the bathhouse door was open wide as mobs of people peered outside, unusual amounts of steam puffing into the main hall. 

And every single pair of eyes in the vicinity were trained directly on him.

Yuuri’s entire head felt like it was on fire. He tried to think of something to play off the situation but nothing was coming to mind except for mental images of how stupid he must have looked, interspersed with the screeching of alarm bells and long, drawn out screams. The hood that had somehow managed to stay on his head during the fall then swept back with a grandiose flair, unveiling his face like a magic trick. Yuuri heard several gasps ring out through the hall. 

He stepped back into the stairwell, slamming the door shut behind him.

He ran back up the stairs like a bat out of hell, ignoring the cloak as it knocked several family portraits off of the walls in protest. He threw himself into the employee break room, slamming the door shut and pressing his back against it, his chest heaving for breath.

“Ho-lee-shit. What’s with the cloak, Mister Bandit?”

Yuuri’s eyes jerked towards the sound of the voice, his back still glued to the door. Minako was spread out against the long breakroom table, her head leaning on a hand that massaged her temple while she knocked back a shot of whisky with the other. She raised an eyebrow at him when the silence got too drawn out. She had never been one to let anyone ignore her questions.

Yuuri tried to come up with an excuse, but it seemed like everytime he tried to bring up the matter, the words got stuck in his throat. “I - I’m just - it’s -” One of the tassels on the hood of his robe started slowly creeping towards his mouth. Yuuri swatted it away as discreetly as he could. “It’s nothing.”

Minako didn’t look convinced. 

“Why are there so many people today?” Yuuri asked, partially because he wanted an explanation and mostly to change the subject. 

“They’re looking for you.”

“I - looking for me?”

“They’re looking for the man who was with Victor yesterday.”

Yuuri felt every muscle in his body clench, his hand jutting out to the wall for support as his knees nearly gave out. 

“You were spotted at Circus Chulanont yesterday, and it seems like everyone talked about you long enough for them to work out who you were. I didn’t say anything,” Minako added a little too quickly. “Cross my heart.”

Yuuri’s vision was starting to get blurry yet again as quick, shaky breaths hissed past his lips. Every single person down there, was there for him. If he went back down now, the staring wouldn’t relent, eyes would be trained on him like some sort of caged animal. It would be too much to handle even on normal occasions, but now...with a sentient cloak on his head…

“You can stay upstairs if you aren’t feeling well. We’ll manage.”

And oh, did Yuuri want to take up that offer. He wanted to so badly. He wanted nothing more than to slip back upstairs into his room, crawling into his bed and pretending the weight of fabric on his head was just from the covers. But as he lifted his eyes to Minako again, he noted her appearance for the first time. Her usually immaculate hair was matted with flyaways, her smooth forehead shiny with sweat. He took in the tightness in her eyes, the way she had one hand glued to her head, massaging her temple slowly, the way there were already three cigarette butts in the ashtray on the table and it wasn’t even noon...

_There have to be nearly a quarter to a hundred people down there already. There are only four workers, aside from my family and me. And I haven’t even been down there to help at all...they must have been working themselves to the bone all morning..._

A wave of guilt washed over him. He’d already left them to deal with his own mess for the entire morning while he thundered around upstairs like a lunatic. Even for him, it would be disgraceful and pathetic to abandon them again and hide in his bedroom like a coward.

Yuuri felt a wavering sense of determination coil inside him, shaky yet tight and steadfast. He was going to go about his day like normal, and the cloak wouldn't stop him. It may be stuck on his head for the time being, but it wasn't going to win in the long run. 

“I’ll help,” Yuuri said. 

“Are you sure…?” Minako’s eyes dragged over his slumped form, knees knocking together and hand still clutching at the wall to hold him up.

“Yes,” Yuuri said definitively, his clammy hand struggling to twist open the door knob and walking shakily but determinedly down the hall. 

 

~~~

 

The cloak liked being around people. It didn’t like it when you talked about Victor.

This raised a very distinct issue, because that was the only thing that anyone wanted to talk about. From the moment Yuuri reluctantly resurfaced with his work apron adorned, he was zeroed in on like a homing missile, nearly every customer in the building requesting for him and him specifically. And, of course, with every new request came a new incredibly forced conversation with barely concealed attempts to wring gossip out of him. As much as Yuuri wished he could've ignored them, he still stumbled around their questions, trying his best to be as professional and hospitable as he could. 

And the cloak, of course, made it impossible.

A lady asked for Yuuri to help heat up his bath, and while he was focusing the spray of the water into the tub she asked what Victor was like. The cloak snaked around the faucet, sending a jet of steaming hot water directly into her face. A man asked for Yuuri to trim his beard, casually dropping Victor’s name in an attempt to figure out if Yuuri fought hand to hand with him. The cloak took a firm grip of the scissors and snipped off an enormous chunk of his bead, the man too busy staring at the angrily quivering cloak in shock to hear Yuuri’s frantic apologies. Yuuri went to the sauna to refill the steam vent, and an old man asked what color Victor’s eyes were. The cloak knocked the bucket straight out of Yuuri’s hands, the room erupting in so much steam that it had to be evacuated, the customers rushing out with hacking coughs and streaming eyes. 

Yuuri was juggled from station to station, struggling helplessly through every task he could normally perform with ease until he eventually messed it up beyond repair. He’d apologized so much that his that his throat hurt, hurling them at his parents, at his co workers, at anyone who would listen. They smiled like they always did and assured him it was fine, but Yuuri wasn't blind. He could see the tension rising in the people's faces, he could feel the whispers that curled around his turned back. A knot had twined itself deep in Yuuri’s stomach, furling and expanding bigger and bigger as the day moved forward. He was supposed to be helping. All he did was make everything worse.

After the cloak nearly knocked over an entire wall of shelves, sending dozens of glass figurines and china sets crashing to the ground, Yuuri’s mother finally tugged him into the back kitchens to help with lunch. 

The kitchen was closed off from the main hall, separated by a wall with a small open window where customers could order their food and carry it to the plush cushions and overstuffed chaises in the lounge. Yuuri rarely helped with lunch, yet found himself relieved in his newfound solitude. It seemed he had struck gold with a place he could work that was secluded from the ravenous swarms of customers who were glutenous for punishment from the cloak. His mother was truly a genius sometimes.

After the disaster of the morning Yuuri was still a little apprehensive, approaching his the pits and pans with slow and cautious movements, studying the cloak closely for evidence that it would explode again. But the cloak stayed as calm as he had ever seen it, unmoving save for a small but insistent tugging towards the exit that emptied into the crowded main hall. Yuuri couldn't believe his luck. He had finally found work where it seemed the cloak wouldn't give him grief.

Finally feeling his spirits lift, he bustled about the kitchen with a near overzealous enthusiasm, garnishing plates of salads with eager flourishes of the wrist and ladling soup into bowls swiftly and gracefully. He managed to finish lunch nearly twenty minutes early, so satisfied in his first success of the day that he even felt himself begin to smile. Figuring it was safe to handle sharp objects again now that the cloak was reasonable, Yuuri started on preparations for dinner, peeling a mountain of potatoes with mechanical precision.

It was about that time that the customers started drifting in, freshly scented and adorning inn bathrobes, chattering like harpies like they always did. _Best to wait until Mom comes back before I start serving_ , Yuuri thought, picking up speed as he continued to peel. 

Then Yuuri started picking up bits and pieces of the customers’ conversations. 

“Where do you think he went - ?”

“- that boy -”

“- acting strange…”

“- was with him, just the day before…”

“- and that cloak…”

“- magic?”

“- a wizard, perhaps?”

“And Victor- ”

The cloak slipped over Yuuri’s knife holding hand, slicing a deep gash into his thumb.

“Yuuri!”

Yuuri hadn’t even noticed his mother enter the room, staring numbly at the thin but steady stream of blood that trickled down his wrist as she scrambled his way, nearly knocking over a pot of boiling water in her haste to reach her son. She grabbed a dishtowel off of the racks, checking it twice to make sure it was clean before wrapping it tightly around Yuuri’s hand. 

“Stay right there, I’m going to get first aid.”

Yuuri watched her back as she scurried away, his thoughts growing thunderous in the newfound silence, numb shock bleeding away into unease as his mind turned faster and faster. 

Yesterday his newfound attention was a problem with an easy solution. Yuuri was not the first person who was rumored or had claimed to be whisked away in the undeniable draw of Victor, and he certainly wouldn't be the last. Eyewitnesses and bystanders were always granted their fifteen minutes of fame, but Victor always did something new, something grander, and they were always forgotten eventually. All Yuuri would've had to do was keep his head down and keep his mouth shut, and with time his life would go back to normal.

But today Yuuri had a cloak on his head. It moved on its own. It was beyond Yuuri’s control. Yuuri’s eyes drifted back over to the towel he pressed limply against his hand. 

And it was capable of hurting someone, if it to. 

This wasn’t a problem that would go away with time. This wasn't something that he could ignore. 

The cloak wouldn't come off.

“Give me your hand, Yuuri.”

Once again he was too lost in thought to notice her as she kneeled by his side and grabbed for his wrist, wielding a cloth soaked in antiseptic and a length of gauze. 

Yuuri took a deep breath to prepare himself, willing himself not to react to the sting on the antiseptic.“You know, when I used to do this for you when you were little, you always used to cry at this part” his mother finally spoke as she dabbed the cloth gently across his thumb. “You don't seem to do that much anymore.”

She set the cloth aside and wrapped the gauze tightly around his wound, winding it all the way to the base of his thumb where she tied it with practiced ease. “I've done this more times than I can count since I've had you and Mari,” she said with a choked little laugh. “I could probably be a doctor now, if I wanted to.”

Yuuri’s eyes slowly lifted from his thumb to her face, his eyebrows furrowing at the strange quality of her voice. Her eyes were wide and barely blinking, her eyebrows were curved upwards in concern, an expression he had seen so many times that he could probably draw it with his eyes closed. But something was off. There was something else that went unspoken between them, clouding thick in the air, a feeling that Yuuri couldn't put a name on. 

“Yuuri...can you please tell me about…your cloak?”

Yuuri didn't even hear the question, all of his focus turned to the puzzle that was her face, to trying to figure out the source of the uneasy feeling that had wrapped around them both. 

When he looked closer, it slowly dawned on him that there was something there that he had never seen before. Her hands trembled slightly where they held his. She leaned slightly away from his body. Her eyes were bright and watery, darting restlessly from his face to his cloak.

_Oh._

_She’s afraid of me._

__“Yuuri...dear...tell me what’s wrong, please? We can get you help...”_ _

Yuuri’s throat got dangerously tight, his eyes prickling dangerously with the telltale sign of tears. _She's afraid of me._ A rush of emotions he had been suppressing all day rose up and struck him with the force of a speeding train, the fabric on his head suddenly feeling as though it weighed a ton. He was helpless. He was afraid. He didn't know what to do. 

__And now he was scaring the people he loved most._ _

__“Yuuri?”_ _

__“I’m fine,” he choked, jerking to his feet mechanically. The cloak quivered as he turned on his heel, taking short, jerky steps towards the door._ _

__“All of the soup is already ladled out and ready to serve. I'm going to go sew ripped robes. I’ll be in the breakroom if you need me.”_ _

__

__~~~_ _

__

__The moment Yuuri started piling ripped robes inside of the basket the cloak jolted into action. It seemed to get offended over other articles of outerwear, trying to wrestle the basket from his grip and knock it out of his hands. Fending off its attacks with all of his energy, he just barely managed to lug the load upstairs and into the break room, slumping over his desk breathlessly while the tassels of the cloak slapped at his face in resentment._ _

__And Yuuri was tired. He was worn to the bone from this fight that he had been withstanding all day, this battle for his normal life. It was getting hard, so hard, but Yuuri couldn't give up...he wouldn't give up..._ _

__Yuuri tugged a robe onto the desk, opening the curtains to let in a stream of light. The hem of his cloak zipped up and yanked the curtains shut again, so he sighed and opened them once more, tying them in a secure knot that the cloak didn’t have the thumbs to challenge. He plucked a sewing needle out of a cushion, holding it as close to his face as he threaded it._ _

__The cloak swiped it out of his hands._ _

__Yuuri stared at the needle on the floor for a long time, his mind roaring with white noise while the dull ringing that had been lingering in his ears grew louder. Taking a shaky breath, Yuuri knelt back down to the ground and gripped the needle in his hands, lifting it back to his eyes to rethread it._ _

The cloak knocked it out of his hands again. 

__Yuuri didn’t even track where it fell to the ground, his eyes glued to his empty hands. His mind was strangely blank but there was something more than inner dialogue swirling around inside him, a dark and despairing feeling that rose like a tide, engulfing his entire being before he could even realize what it was._ _

_I can’t sew robes._

__His hands started shaking under his gaze, and Yuuri became aware that his breath was coming out in rapid, shallow pants. The dark storm of emotion inside him was filling him so fast that he felt like he was going to explode, and he didn't even have a name for it._ _

_I can’t even sew a stupid hole anymore._

Yuuri found a name for the emotion. 

It was hopelessness. 

To his horror, Yuuri felt his eyes burn and his chest tighten, his body clenching with every symptom of tears so fast that he couldn't do anything to stop them. Jerking his chair back with a harsh scrape, Yuuri leapt to his feet and rushed to the bathroom, fumbling the lock closed with shaking fingers before finally slumping down on the toilet. He buried his face in his hands, letting his entire body wrack with the force of his sobs. 

_This is the second time in two days_ , Yuuri thought to himself after a while, wiping snot on the back of his hand and letting out a disgusted, shaky sigh. _God. Could I get any more pathetic?_

It seemed a bit silly to him now, the fact that the one thing that broke him was a silly little needle. But that needle was the catalyst of a dreadful realization, one that he knew in the back of his head but had been suppressing all day. He couldn't get the upper hand in this fight. He couldn't beat the cloak, and he could never live his normal life again. It wasn’t possible. 

He was a burden. His very presence swamped ungodly, gossip hungry hordes straight to their doors, spitting on the foundation of what was supposed to be their peaceful sanctuary. He couldn’t even be of help to clean up his own mess, the cursed cloak wreaking havoc wherever it went and feeding the endless rumor mill. Word traveled fast, and soon everyone in town would come rushing just to see Yuuri, swayed by the urge to witness the forbidden temptress that was magic. 

And for the entire town to know, the military would have to know about him too. And what would happen then? What would they do to him? Would the inn be deemed unsafe and get shut down? Would Yuuri be detained for suspicion of magical affairs, would his family be as well for harboring a criminal? 

And those were only the more happy endings. Because Yuuri couldn't say for sure that this cloak wouldn't hurt anyone. He didn't know what it was capable of. Yuuri couldn't even bare to imagine what would happen if the cloak pulled a stunt he couldn't take back... 

He looked in the mirror. The hood was a bright, bright blue, a bold and distinguishable hue that would no doubt stick out like a sore thumb in their town where the most daring color of dress was a shade darker than the prescribed grey. It was old, embroidered in a dated, quilted pattern. 

One of the tassels of the hood raised up by itself, wiggled a little wave at the mirror in greeting. 

_I can’t stay here_ , Yuuri thought. _I have to leave._

~~~ 

Yuuri didn’t tell anyone that he was leaving. He waited until everyone was gathered in the breakroom, too busy with lunch to pay him mind, and then quietly went about packing his room. First he packed necessities, a change of clothes and what little coin he had. Once he was sure that he had enough room to afford being selfish, Yuuri topped off his rucksack with things to remind him of home. A portrait of his family that was old and faded, an aerial pole hook that Phichit had given him for his birthday one year. 

Everything Yuuri couldn’t bring with him he collected in a bin to be thrown on the rubbish heap. It was the least he could do for his family at this point, saving them the hassle of cleaning his room once he was gone. He cleared his shelves dutifully, repressing the stabs of regret it brought him to see his childhood, his entire life get carelessly tossed into the bin. Dolls, snow globes, little items that held fond memories that were not valuable enough to keep. He paused as he rounded on his bookshelf, his eyes drawn magnetically to one in particular. 

It was a written collection of the tales of Victor Nikiforov. Yuuri bought it off a foreign peddler many years ago, without thought and on a whim. He regretted it almost the second he did, too paranoid to open it enough to even put a dent in its thick, stiff spine. He staved his curiosity by telling himself that all stories about Victor were the same, too tall to be true, retold by too many tongues to be credible. Yuuri used to wonder if Victor would ever write a book himself, setting straight the record of his life once and for all. Unable to help himself, Yuuri found himself wishing he could read that book. 

Now he wished he would never hear the name again. 

Surprisingly, Yuuri felt a wave of guilt wash over him at the thought. _I guess it’s not really his fault that all these things are happening to me_ , Yuuri thought, plucking the book from its resting place and brushing a speck of dust from its cover. _It’s not fair of me to blame him._

When Yuuri thought it over that morning, he couldn’t make out a sensible pattern in the bizarre phenomenon that kept happening to him. But now, as he stared at the book in his hands, he found himself realizing that it all seemed to come back to Victor. _How strange_. Yuuri thumbed the spine absentmindedly. _I don’t know him. I'm still not even sure if we've ever met. Yet he can completely influence what happens in some random stranger's life..._

In something of a symbolic gesture, Yuuri tucked the book of tales into his rucksack. He couldn’t come up with a concrete reason why, but it wasn’t that big a deal anyways. He would need entertainment for the journey, at the very least. 

~~~ 

Yuuri had never been to the train station before. 

The platform was much wider, yet much less crowded, speckled with people packed in pairs and bundles and lonely single travelers. The crowd of the train station was also much more interesting to look at, a tearful mother with her arms wrapped around an oblivious child, a peddler who weaved coins between his fingers while his jacket jingled with treasure. No one looked around at each other, their faces turned towards the empty tracks, waiting for their steed that would carry them to adventure. 

Yuuri could almost imagine the cherry red engine, so familiar to him, yet utterly foreign in this context. He’d seen it pass under his window more times in his life than he could count, every now and again imagining himself stepping onto it himself and taking the great leap into the unknown that his friends and family had wanted for him for so long. 

Train stations were a place of beginnings. It was a little ironic that Yuuri was finally getting his like this. He never pictured it going this way. 

Before he could even stop himself he felt tears cascade down his cheeks yet again. A part of him screamed for him to run somewhere more private, but Yuuri felt too numb to obey it. For once he was grateful for the hood that was stuck firmly on his head, obscuring his face from view. One of the tassels raised up and tickled his cheek to try and catch a few stray tears, which Yuuri slapped away. 

“Cut it out,” he hissed under his breath. 

A dull throbbing tarted niggling its way into his head from his crying. It only intensified as a gaggle of people who stood too close to his right started chattering away in a language he couldn’t understand, clipped and high pitched vowels stabbing into his ears like knives. He edged away from them as subtly as he could. He closed his eyes and drew in slow, deep breaths, willing himself to focus on the sound of his breathing until the headache subsided. It worked much better than he thought it would, the sounds of the voices around him fading away altogether into beautiful silence. Satisfied, he opened his eyes.

He wasn’t in the train station. 

He was in a fire. 

Everywhere he looked he was engulfed in crackling flame, his body and neck seemingly paralyzed as his eyes darted in every direction. He glanced up above and was greeted by what appeared to be a chimney pipe, a long dark tunnel that continued so far up that the outside was only visible in the barest flicker of light.

He looked back down just in time to catch a glint of gold metal, a flash of a pale hand- 

Yuuri blinked, and he was back in the train station. 

Yuuri had impulsively held his breath as if he had just submerged his head in water, gulping deeply for air as his surroundings came back into focus. _What was that_ , Yuuri thought, wiping his hand across his suddenly clammy forehead. _What the hell was that…_?

He was almost too afraid to blink again, keeping his eyes open as wide as he could. But after a few seconds Yuuri felt the strange, yet impossibly intense urge to close his eyes again, as if he were missing something incredibly important. 

He closed his eyes.

This time, his vision burst with open, blue sky, wind sweeping high and fast against his body like a kite. Before Yuuri could even get settled in this realization, a jet of steam blew directly in front of his face, blinding his view of the blanket of blue above him. He looked to his feet and all he could see was a wide expanse of sheet metal, his sense of hearing came back to him with the sound of clicking and whirring, of great colossal _**BOOMS**_ that echoed in a steady cadence, almost like footsteps…

_**TOOT, TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT.** _

Yuuri startled, blinking rapidly until he was back in the train station once more. The cherry red steam engine had finally arrived. 

~~~

When Yuuri was a child he went to school, and he learned everything he needed to know about the world. 

His primary school teacher was a lady that he couldn’t remember much about. All he remembered was the sound of her sugary sweet voice, and her wide, wide smile. She taught them to spell and she taught them to count, and when they ran out of animals to discuss the sounds of she gathered them all on the carpet in a circle, where she sat in the center on a chair.

“Today, boys and girls, we are going to learn about the Waste.”

“As we talked about during our last lesson, we live in one big country split up into five tiny parts. What are those parts called, boys and girls?”

“Moorhaven, Salstein, Korasinth, Kingsbury and Calmany” They chanted back. They liked to chant.

“Correct. Now, these five kingdoms are connected by a huge valley of grasslands, weaving and joining us together like the ocean does for the world. We call this sea of grass “The Waste”. Can you say that, boys and girls?”

“The Waste,” they chanted back happily. They really liked to chant.

All of a sudden everything changed, like a discernable switch had been flipped. The room felt like it got several degrees colder, the teacher’s face got dismally grave. “The Waste is not a safe place. In some places the grasses grow taller than you or I, so you can never see what may be right in front of you. The mountains are colder than our most dreadful winters, freezing any life away in just a matter of minutes. There are beasts and creatures who live there who we don’t even have named, and worst of all, it is a hotspot for the shadiest of all magical activity. Witches and wizards run amok and unregulated up there, practicing the most dangerous of all magic and using anyone who passes by as guinea pigs.”

“Whatever you do, stay far, far away from the Waste. Repeat it.”

“Stay far, far away from the Waste.”

~~~

Yuuri was going to the Waste. 

He stood motionless on that platform for a long time as his counterparts boarded the train, the peddler dropping a wristwatch as he clambered on board, the tearful mother pushing her newly screaming son on by himself before running full speed in the opposite direction. The train waited its fifteen minutes and then it chugged away, yet Yuuri stood completely still. His body was numb with shock yet his head was overflowing, with thoughts and feelings and visions that he couldn’t comprehend. And for once, he didn’t feel like he had to comprehend them to figure out what to do next. Because what he had to do next was the only thing that rang clear above all of the noise, all of the confusion and disorder. 

Go to the Waste. 

Yuuri walked all the way back into town, standing for hours in town square with his thumb up, trying to hitch a ride. People passed him again and again, determinedly avoiding eye contact with his suspicious cloaked figure. When someone finally stopped for him, it was a farmer with a mule-tugged cart stuffed to the max with hay. 

“Where are you going, kid?” the farmer asked gruffly, adjusting his worn straw hat so that he could look at Yuuri more closely. 

“Where do you live?” Yuuri responded, wincing internally at how shady he sounded. 

The farmer raised his eyebrows slightly, but did not turn him away. “Just on the very edge of town, son. I’m sure wherever you’re headed will be on the way-” 

“That’s fine. I’m going just a little farther than where you’re headed.”

The farmer sputtered in protest but Yuuri paid him no mind, climbing into the back of his cart and seating himself in a prickly bed of hay. The farmer seemed to give up on questioning him, whipping his mules back into action, and they ambled slowly off.

The ride got bumpier as they journeyed further on, Yuuri closing his eyes and letting the rocking of the cart and the smell of straw cloud his senses. He was not a fool. Yuuri had grown up memorizing every cautionary tale, every warning, every paranoia and superstition. None of that was for naught. In the back of his mind, that healthy fear was still there, but it was overshadowed by something so much bigger, so much louder. 

Yuuri was going to the Waste. 

Because something in the Waste was calling to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *deep inhale through the nose*
> 
> Sit down, my dears, let's have a chat. 
> 
> So first off, I almost abandoned this fic over this week. I know. Gasp. But hey, I pulled through! And I even managed to make it on schedule! Kind of. w00t  
> It's just, like...UGH. I hate this chapter. Like, HATE hate it. I couldn't get a decent hold of where I wanted to take it, it ended up having less plot than I originally wanted, I started worrying that my over descriptive ass was drawing unnecessary shit out and I wondered if I should erase the entire thing and start over, but then I felt like everything in this chapter was necessary in order for you to get the context of the curse/why Yuuri decided that he had to leave. It took me right up until this exact moment to finish it and once I did I read over it and I was like. 
> 
> THIS IS BORING.
> 
> So let me be straight with you for a sec. In case you couldn't tell, I have an incurable disease called "perfectionism with a touch of overthink and second guess everything you do-itis." Throughout all of this, I started to lose sight of what initially lit the fire in me to begin this fic in the first place, and every time I opened the story I got overwhelmed with negative feelings. I fell back into hating everything I typed. I don't want this to happen again. I really, really want to finish this. 
> 
> So I guess all in all I have two requests for you.  
> One (1): if you have any faults with this chapter, please leave constructive criticism.  
> Two (2): if you really enjoyed this chapter and like where this is story is heading, I am on my knees BEGGING you to leave kudos and comments. Having a visual confirmation that people enjoy my writing and want me to continue gives me more of a drive than I can even tell you. 
> 
> Oookay. That's all, back to your regularly scheduled programming. 
> 
> Follow my [Tumblr](http://weeaboobi.tumblr.com/) I scream. I meme. 
> 
> Give this kudos/comments or we get another boring ass Yuuri stays at the inn chapter. 
> 
> ...
> 
> UGH
> 
> I JUST REALLY WANNA WRITE VICTOR.


	4. The Waste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mama didn't raise no quitter.

When one thinks of a big city, they tend to imagine the same things. A roar of noise, of voices and engines and car horns, a symphony of life that never stops, not even to sleep. That being said, it always takes people by surprise to learn that Marienberg was the largest city in Calmany. At first glance most seemed to think it was a ghost town. 

They called Marienberg the “city that holds its breath”. The people rarely spoke above a whisper, the town tiptoeing through the days, almost as if they were trying not to awaken a sleeping bear. Which is perhaps more accurate of an analogy than one would normally think.

Down by the edge of the quiet little town, away from the empty streets and firmly closed shutters, there was a man-made river, which may or may not have been filled with man-eating crocodiles. Across the river there was a solid stone wall, stretching nearly twenty feet in the air. Over the stone wall there was a hill, that turned sharply upwards and stretched higher than the tallest buildings in the city. And finally, on the top of that hill you would find an ancient stone and mortar castle, looming high above it all as if it were casting a judging eye on the town below it. And if it had eyes, it would probably be glaring.

Most of the time, the drawbridge over the river was pulled up and shut tight, secured in heavy metal chains and patrolled by a pair of stern looking guards. But today, it seemed, was a special day. The drawbridge was let down, and a guest was let inside. Calmany neighbored a large empire called Salstein, a most advantageous alliance bonding the two countries that spanned over the course of hundreds of years. And in a few simple months before that day, Salstein had coronated a new king. He was a widely honored man, universally loved, a king of great dignity and nobility who went by the name of -

“IT’S JJ STYLE!” 

The voice of the newly crowned King of Salstein rang through the formerly chilled silence like the crack of a whip. The many servants that surrounded him all jolted in surprise, cries of shock ringing through the air, an ink well and several slips of parchment sliding to the ground, the servant that trailed behind him losing his grip on the King’s extravagant fur cape and having to scramble for it before he let it hit the ground.

The only servant that was not fazed by the King’s outburst was the only servant that didn’t belong to him. “Your majesty, if you please, we must continue the tour,” the High Attendant of Calmany spoke, his voice remarkably and professionally passive.

“My apologies!” King JJ’s jovial reply was still a notch above a respectable indoor voice, posing at his own reflection in the humble bronze mirror hanging on the wall. “This is the first thing I've seen on the walls since I've come in here. It was a wonderful surprise!”

“The High Fortress is a design of function, rather than luxury.” The Attendant offered in explanation.

King JJ hummed vaguely, not even bothering to conceal his disinterest as he reluctantly departed from the mirror with a wink. 

As soon as the King resumed his leisurely pace, so did the entourage around him. The only sounds were the creaking of his heavily armoured knights, the scribe’s quill jotting flusteredly fast over the re-acquired parchment, the cadence of their footsteps deafening as they struck the cold stone floors. The ceilings were low and the air was cold and somehow slightly damp, as if they were climbing through a cave. Their paths were lit only by a series of glowing orange torches, lining the walls in succession and flickering dimly in their wake. A couple of King JJ’s servants were taking in their surroundings with polite curiosity, but the King showed no such interest, marching forward with unwavering eyes and a charming smile.

“You said these were the, ah, living quarters? It’s a tad difficult to imagine someone living here.”

The High Attendant matched the King’s strides diligently, never straying a step farther or behind him. “Yes, sire. This wing of the fortress is where the Royal Family resides, as did the royal family before them, and the royal family before them, and so on. The High Fortress is a marvelous feat of steadfast architectural design, a symbol of our kingdom that had lasted over hundreds of years. Generation after generation, come and gone, every single one shaping the history of our kingdom in these very walls -”

“I don't care,” King JJ said brightly. “When do I get to meet the King?”

“In due time, your majesty. As you may know, kings are more prone to find themselves the targets of assassination attacks. The renovations of our castle mark the journey to provide the most security possible to the royal family.” They turned into a new hallway that was lined with windows. It was the first natural light that they had encountered throughout the tour, but it was somewhat marred by a series of metal bars that enclosed each one. “You would be hard pressed to find a more secure castle.”

“I thought I was summoned here for an audience with the High King.” The extent of King JJ’s interest in the windows went so far as a fleeting glance. “In my invitation it said I was summoned here to make acquaintance, and to discuss some type of negotiation. Why am I being treated like a tourist?”

“The King wishes to show you a piece of Calman history before you make his acquaintance, Sire. He believes it will make your meeting much more agreeable. I assure you, you are receiving nothing less than our finest treatment. We don't allow just anyone to even step foot in the castle -” 

King JJ tossed back his head and guffawed, a couple of his servants joining in on his laughter nervously. “More agreeable, you say? Cheeky Kenzo.”

“Please refer to his majesty as King -”

King JJ held up a single palm to silence the Attendant, shaking his head slowly and clicking his tongue. “He can show me around his house all he wants, my friend. He can offer me a damn room in the place, but I assure you it won’t change my decision.” King JJ swept his cape back heroically, inadvertently punching his servant in the gut. “The Salstein Empire will be withdrawing support of Calmany in the upcoming war, and that is final.”

The Attendant’s face remained completely passive in his speech, not a twitch or a blink visible to give him away. “Is that so?”

“It is.”

“Mm.”

They fell into silence once more as they rounded upon a set of narrow stairs, only wide enough for the pack to continue on in single file. King JJ’s face twisted in annoyance as the High Attendant edged his way in front of him, leading the group upwards.

“If I may be so bold as to ask,” the High Attendant spoke over his shoulder. “Your majesty, what is your opinion on wizards?”

“Wizards?” King JJ grunted back, disinterest coloring his voice even more, as if he were trying to get a rise out of the Attendant in his impoliteness. “Hm. No opinion.” 

“Oh?” The Attendant hummed, rounding over the top of the stairwell and leading them into a new hallway, the air somehow colder and the lanterns more dim. The servants of King JJ felt a sense of unease in their new surroundings, hesitating a bit before they followed after the High Attendant, but King JJ didn’t seem to notice a thing, accelerating to a slight speed walk as he tried to overtake the High Attendant for the lead of the pack once more.

“I fear nothing,” King JJ responded, puffing his chest out slightly. “No man nor wizard is a match for me, my amazing intellect or my unwavering skill. No one beats King JJ.”

His servants all hummed in agreement and admiration, the scribble of his squire’s quill flying even faster, as if he were trying to match the quote exactly before his own memory erased it.

“I see.”

The High Attendant came to a sudden halt, several of King JJ’s servants slamming into each other’s backs before they could stop themselves. They had reached the end of the hall, standing before an enormous, round wooden door, stretching from floor to ceiling and covered in chains that were loose and undone, as if it had been unlocked before they had gotten there.

“If you will please direct your attention,” the attendant’s hand hovered on the final doorknob. “To the final destination of our tour.”

He swung the door open.

The first thing they felt was the cold. A gust of freezing air roared over them, the sensation as though they had just opened a door that was holding back a flood of freezing water. There were a few shouts of alarm, one of the knights leaping in front of King JJ to shield him with his own body. but there was no use. It was over as soon as it started. 

Unsettled and trying to get ahold of their composure again, no one except King JJ noticed the attendant, whose face remained so perfectly stoney and unflinching, the same passive facade he had been wearing ever since King JJ had arrived. 

“Please, after you, your majesty.”

The servants tried to enter the room after him but the High Attendant raised his arm, blocking them all from following after their King. They all raised their voices in protest but King JJ didn’t give them the slightest bit of attention before he stepped slowly into the room, his eyes sweeping over everything slowly, paying attention for the first time the entire visit.

Everything seemed to move in circles. A bitter breeze traveled along the room in a seemingly neverending loop. From the ceiling hung a giant, ornate mobile of birds and dragons, which swung in a torturously slow rotation, as if it should stop any second but it never did. The walls were painted with bears and lions and animals of all creeds, and King JJ felt as though the second he took his eyes off of each one they would move in the corner of his eye. The ceiling was dotted with hand painted stars, which glowed with an unnaturally bright light. 

It was the room of a child. 

Or perhaps a better phrase would be that it used to be the room of a child. Trunks were lopsided with their contents spilling across the ground like guts, dolls were strewn across the floor with twitching limbs, toy locomotives were scattered in separate pieces, emitting barely audible hums. The stars on the ceiling cast the entire place in a feverish teal glow, the only other source of light being a single candle that seemed to be alive. It flitted across the air, to the window, to the closet whose contents were so empty that you could hear the wind whistle through it, to the bed. 

And on the bed sat a man. He was cloaked from head to toe in a dark black veil, the same type that one would typically see at a Calman funeral. He was stock still, facing away from King JJ and the entrance of the room as he stared at a doll that sat alone in the center of the pillow, its head rotating in place.

He spoke barely above a whisper, but everyone in the room seemed to hear it. “King JJ of Salstein, congratulations on ascending to the throne. I hope you have enjoyed your tour.”

“What…” King JJ floundered on the spot, staring at the man with his mouth falling open and shut, open and shut. “What is the meaning of this?!” 

The man rose from his spot on the bed. He turned, assumedly, to face King JJ, but the long, black veil kept his face utterly hidden from sight, reduced to nothing more than a shadow. Then he moved towards him, giving him the illusion of a shadow gliding towards the other king.

“I am the High King of Calmany,” he replied, coming to a stop a few feet from King JJ. “and this is the best illustration I have of my ultimate loss.”

King JJ, for once, had nothing to respond with, plunging the room back into icy silence, broken only by the hum of the room that seemed on the verge of coming to life.

“I am sure you have guessed it, but this is more than just an ordinary bedroom. It is even more than a place of magic. At this moment, you are standing inside of a crime scene.”

“Go look at the window.”

It was a near astonishing sight for the servants who were gathered on top of one another in the doorway, to see their King robbed of all his impulses, acting with a hesitation to his movements that they had never seen before. There was a hiss of metal as his knights unsheathed their swords, but King JJ halted them with the signal of his hand. He made his way to the large, floor to ceiling window in the center of the wall that was opposite of the door, enclosed with iron bars like all the others in the castle. It looked no different from any other window he had seen thus far, but the closer he got the more King JJ felt an unsettling feeling, as if something were off. 

Slowly, he raised a hand to grasp one of the bars, but his hand went straight through it, as if it were a mirage. 

The candlestick that had been flitting around the room zeroed in on the tampered window with a purpose, King JJ crying out as he narrowly dodged getting whacked in the head. It soared out into the night sky, hovering a few meters from in front of them before it multiplied, until dozens of candles led a path to the ground, as if illuminating an invisible staircase. 

“Years ago, a wizard broke into my castle. My castle, the most secure fortress in the kingdom, if not the country. Centuries upon centuries of fortitudes, of every architectural defense and security imaginable, a wizard managed to sneak right through without a single detection of anyone. He came into this very room and stole my youngest son.”

King JJ had no words, absolutely nothing to say, yet the High King of Calmany continued to speak.

“Let me tell you something, King of Salstein, something that you ought to carry with you whether you walk away from this meeting as my ally or not. Wizards only care for one thing: to have total control. People like you. People like me. We are forever vulnerable to them. They will always have a power that you do not, and nothing you do will ever change that.”

The High King of Calmany stepped forward and began to circle King JJ. It was so quiet in the room that you could hear him gulp.

“It took me awhile to understand. It was something that I couldn’t realize until I found myself with a family, with the fates of all the lives of the kingdom in my own hands. So tell me this, New King. After what I’ve shown you, after what these beasts have done to me and my family, do you really think they won’t come for you?”

Silence. 

“What you are walking away from, as you walk away from alliance with me, is the chance to beat the one single threat to even the most powerful of non-magic people. I have directed my kingdom to war, and I will not stop until there is not a single magical threat left to my people. There will be no more little boys who are kidnapped from their rooms. The King JJ I heard of would not back away from a fight. The King JJ I know does not give in to anyone. So tell me. Will you give in to the wizards and lay down while they take everything from you, or will you support me in this fight?”

For a long time, King JJ didn’t look directly at the High King of Calmany. His gaze was focused directly on the doll on the bed, whose head just kept turning in place. Long, silent minutes stretched, the servants who stood with mouths agape began to fidget uncomfortably, completely unsure of the outcome their king would chose.

And then King JJ’s eyes snapped back to the High King, his signature smirk stretching upon his face. Behind him, his attendants sighed in relief.

“I’m with you.”

The High King inclined his head slightly. “Thank you.”

The two kings emerged from the room, the High Attendant slamming the door shut and securing several of the heavy chain locks in place as the group began to take their leave. 

“So,” King JJ said, eyeing the veiled figure who walked alongside him in with interested approval. “This was the discussion you wanted to have, I’m sure. I suppose what’s left are the negotiations. What is it you want? Money, ammunition -?”

“I want the man who stole my son.”

“...what?”

“The kingdom of Salstein is well known for its unbeatable army. The men at your disposal are seasoned to the core, trained for anything, heroes who walk amongst men. I want the strongest soldier you have, and I want them to find the wizard who took my son. After so many years-” The King’s voice cracked. “After so many years, I do not expect them to bring me my boy alive. I’ve come to accept that it may be too late. But I want the one who did this brought to me. I want him to meet his judgement at the hands of the people who he’s hurt the most.”

The smirk on King JJ’s face spread even wider, his eyes twinkling as he passed by the bronze mirror without a stutter in his step. “Don’t worry, Kenzo. I’ve got just the person in mind. He’ll find this guy in no time.”

 

~~~

 

The ride had been the easy part. 

With someone else holding the reigns Yuuri felt something that somewhat resembled calm. His head was buzzing but it was background noise to the quiet instinct, a welcome distraction from the cloak that only got more ornery the further they drifted from town, slapping Yuuri’s face and spitting bits of hay at the farmer. Luckily, the man didn't ask many questions. He responded to magic the same way everyone else did; with his head down and his questions held back until he was at a safe enough distance to imagine his own answers.

The hard part came right as the cobblestone bled into bedraggled dirt road, as they rounded a bit further than the outskirts of town and the cart came to a slow stop in front of a humble little cottage. Yuuri hopped from his throne of hay, his feet slightly unsteady from going so long without touching the ground. Just a little farther ahead there was narrow dirt path that had obviously not been strode upon for years, overgrown with root and grass and just barely visible through a sea of green that curved up, up, and up. Standing right before a world he had looked at all his life from the far distance of his window, Yuuri felt incredibly small.. It was bigger than he could have even imagined, farther than the eye could make out. He was an insignificant blot before the hills of grass that rolled like waves, the mountains that loomed over him like monsters ready to swallow him whole. That's when it really hit him. 

He was at the foot of the Waste. And his only plan of action was to walk straight into it.

The ride was over and the reigns were back in Yuuri’s hands. And right now, Yuuri wanted nothing more than to give those reigns a violent crack and send himself sprawling back to town as fast as he could. 

But he couldn’t.

 _I'm insane!_ Yuuri thought. _I’m insane! I’m insane!_

As if reading his thoughts, the farmer finally spoke. “Crazy of you to do this, boy.”

Yuuri didn’t respond, his hand jotting up to pull the hood of his cloak further over his face when he felt it threaten to slide off. He rifled through his rucksack in the guise of making sure he had everything, a desperate attempt to avoid eye contact. Then he checked it a second time with more focus when he realized that it was actually a good idea.

“I’m serious. That’s the Waste. There’s nothing but witches and wizards out there.”

Yuuri tightened his rucksack shut once more and tossed it over his shoulder, his cloak pummeling his back violently in protest of being squished down. He turned his back on the farmer, glancing up at the pathway before him, somehow simultaneously an invitation and a foreboding warning.

_I have to go back._

But he didn’t. Instead, he turned back to the farmer and offered him a strained smile. “Thank you for the ride, sir. I really appreciate it.”

As he began to walk, Yuuri found himself wishing for a curve in the road, a thicket of trees, anything to obstruct him from the town behind him. As it was, the dirt path maintained a solidly straight line, the gaze of the farmer and the view of the town unflinchingly stuck on his back like a hot knife. He kept his head facing forward and tried to pretend like he didn’t know he was being watched, but somehow pretending only made him even more uncomfortably aware of it..

The cloak, in particular, seemed vehemently against leaving town. Yuuri felt like he was in a vicious game of tug of war, each step becoming a greater struggle the further he went in, the tassels of the hood shooting out and slapping at his face intermittently. 

“Could you cut it out?” He blurted out in irritation, glaring at the cloak over his shoulder. One of the tassels on his neck snapped up and cracked his ear while his guard was down. 

“Geez,” Yuuri muttered, massaging his stinging ear. “Is it your job to make my life more difficult or something?”

Aside from the eternally annoying presence of the cloak, the journey was proving to be somewhat tranquil. Yuuri’s every muscle was tense, his flight instinct coiled and ready to send him sprinting, waiting for something to happen, but everything was so tranquil. The quiet ambiance of wildlife followed his every footstep, no other sound save for the gentle whisper of the breeze sweeping through the grass, the hem of his cloak catching lightly over the roots and leaves. Yuuri was at ease. 

Why the hell was he at ease? 

He was in _the Waste._

 _I’m in the Waste_ , Yuuri thought to himself, almost as if he were testing his psyche. _I’m in the Waste, I have no food, no shelter planned, no idea where I’m going, and I am utterly defenseless. I am in the most dangerous part of the country, with no other plan but to...walk._

Yuuri knew himself well enough to know that he should be panicking. 

But he wasn’t.

Which made him panic. 

_Why am I here._

And the answer to that question, as simplified as Yuuri could manage to break it down, was a feeling. Just thinking about that only made Yuuri panic more. Yet ever since he had stood at the train station, ever since his mind was overcome with flashes of images, of visions that didn’t belong to him, he was simply washed away by it, this feeling that hooked deep inside him, more steady and sure than any other feeling Yuuri had felt in his entire life. 

Yuuri felt like he was at war with himself. His rationale was tearing at the walls of his brain, clawing for any sort of leverage it could to gain the upperhand to this strange feeling that seemed to be leading him without control, to send Yuuri out of the Waste and back to the safety of the town he knew. Yet the feeling held steadfast, unbeatable by anything Yuuri could come up with. 

_The last unbeatable, inexplicable thing I got involved with is still sitting on my head, and it isn’t exactly a friend, is it?_ Yuuri’s logic retorted venomously. 

But yet again, without any facts or evidence on his side, this argument fell flat to the feeling. It was positively bizarre, which was saying a lot, considering what he had been through the past few days. Surely, after finding nothing but trouble in things that he couldn’t explain, Yuuri should know better than to put all his trust in a random feeling that got put into his head after seeing flashes of perplexing images. With all he knew, he could quite possibly be wandering straight into a trap of more trouble like a moth drawn to a flame. But somehow, for some reason, he just knew that he wasn’t. This feeling wasn’t like that. It felt almost...familiar. A soft and warm tugging at his heart, something that he felt almost like he should’ve known

 _I really am insane, aren’t I?_ Yuuri thought. Yet it tugged him forward all the same, and Yuuri felt powerless but to follow. 

But as the sun slipped further beneath the skyline of green and the wind turned bitter cold and harsh and as the cloak tugged him back with all his might, it was simply not proving to be an easy journey. The dirt path started to take a stark uphill turn, until Yuuri felt more like he were climbing instead of walking. He paused to heave out a couple exhausted breaths, his hands on his knees and his feet throbbing painfully. For the first time, he turned to look over his shoulder and nearly moaned in displeasure. 

The town was still right behind him, so close that Yuuri could make out the train as it wove through the distant buildings like a cherry red snake, little blots of black smoke traveling up into the setting sky. Yuuri shook his hair out of his eyes, his head hanging dejectedly. As close as the town was, it felt as if he had hardly moved at all. 

_Between gravity and this damned cloak, it’s almost like the universe doesn’t want me to do this_ , Yuuri thought. 

_Then go home._

_I can’t._

Yuuri sighed in frustration, his fingers digging into his temples to try and drive out his headache before it began. As he rubbed absentmindedly, out of the corner of his eye Yuuri spotted a branch, jutting out from a bush that quivered in the wind that seemed to steadily pick up. 

_That’d make a nice cane_ , he thought. 

He gripped the stick, giving it an experimental tug. It wouldn’t budge. Wrapping both of his hands around it, he heaved with all his might. The stick gave way with a shudder of leaves, sending Yuuri sprawling on his back with the momentum.

A figure sprang up from the bush, towering ten feet into the air and swaying slightly in the breeze, arms splayed out on either side of it, as if it were about to embrace Yuuri. His scream was lost in the wind as he scrambled backwards, until his wits came back to him and he realized what it was.

It was a scarecrow. 

Yuuri stared at it incredulously for a few moments, before erupting with relieved laughter.. 

“Just a scarecrow!” Yuuri sighed, climbing back to his feet and dusting off his pants. “For a second there, I thought you were one of those blob mon -”

Yuuri’s words trailed off as his senses further returned to him, bringing light to exactly what stood before him. As in, literally stood. 

Scarecrows weren’t supposed to stand on their own. 

Yuuri gulped. 

For a moment he and the scarecrow stood in stock still silence as they appraised each other, Yuuri with wariness as the scarecrow swayed passively. It had a top hat that sat upon a rather large, misshapen turnip head, a borderline creepy minimalist smile carved onto its face. Its overlarge coat sleeves flapped from where they were splayed on its cross poll. It was seemingly lifeless and completely normal, if not for the fact that it was standing straight up on its own, unassisted. 

No doubt about it. This was magic. This was Yuuri’s first magical encounter in the Waste. He didn’t know what it was, or what it wanted. Even if it seemed to be harmless right now, all Yuuri knew was that after what he had gone through the past couple of days, this was not a situation that would be wise to stick his head into.

Without another word, Yuuri turned on his heel and continued climbing upwards. He kept his head down and his eyes to the ground, making use of his carefully cultivated talent of being unassuming and harmless-looking. He traveled along for a good minute or so, enough to where his guard loosened slightly. 

_Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump -_

Yuuri stopped abruptly, and so did the noise. 

Yuuri started walking again. 

_Thump, thump, thump, thump -_

Yuuri turned on his heels without warning, catching the scarecrow stumbling to a stop mid - hop, hurtling after him like some sort of bizarre pogo stick. 

“Look,” Yuuri called, “I’m sorry for bothering you. I didn’t mean to pull you from the bush, I was just looking for a walking stick, I really don’t want any trouble. It won’t happen again.”

He turned his back on the scarecrow and continued walking, hoping he had made himself clear. Luckily enough, it seemed the scarecrow understood, because when the thumping started up again, but this time going in the opposite direction of Yuuri. 

“Thank goodness,” Yuuri muttered. 

The sun had nearly completely set now, the grass around him casting long, flickering shadows. Yuuri was growing more and more nervous by the second. His journey had been relatively peaceful thus far, but he really, really didn’t want to find out what the Waste was like at night. Yet night was slamming into him with the force of a train, and Yuuri still had no plans for shelter. It didn’t seem like he had a choice.

_What's going to happen to me?_

Keep going. Keep going.

_But where am I going?_

Then the thumping came back.

“Hey!” Yuuri shouted, the scarecrow bouncing back to his side with blatant disregard. “Listen! I told you, I’m not looking for troub -”

The scarecrow gave another bounce, dislodging a small cane that had been dangling from the wrist of his straw stuffed arm, splayed upon his wooden post.

Yuuri gaped at it for a second, at a loss for words. It was a fine cane, made of polished wood. The handle was an ornate bronze bird of sorts, its fierce beak the perfect size in Yuuri’s grip.

“I...thank you. Thank you very much. It’s just what I needed.”

The scarecrow bounced in place twice. 

Yuuri shuffled in place, averting his eyes from the scarecrow as he thumbed the length of the cane. He didn’t really know what to do now. It would be rude to turn the scarecrow away from him now. Did proper manners pertain to magical objects? Yuuri didn’t have much experience outside of his cloak, and his cloak had yet to do him any nice favors. 

_Ah, well. I already threw caution to the wind when I frolicked into the Waste._

“Uh. If you knew that I needed a walking stick, then I guess you could understand me before... what’s your name?”

The scarecrow said nothing. 

“...uh. Right. Well, I’m going to...well, actually I don’t know where I’m going. I’m just kind of...walking. Here.”

The turnip drooped slightly, as if it were tilting his head at him. Yuuri didn’t like how judgmental it looked, all of a sudden. 

“But I’m going somewhere! I - well, I don’t know where it is. Or when we’ll get there. But...we’ll get there. I think. You could walk with me, if you want?” 

The scarecrow hopped three times, its head spinning dizzyingly fast. Yuuri immediately started having second thoughts with his decision.

But in the end, he simply caved. “Well...Okay…”

And the two of them continued on their way. It was still an unsettling journey, though somehow Yuuri preferred it to when he was traveling alone. It was hard to feel at ease with the continuous thumping of the scarecrow bouncing up and down beside him, yet it was a welcome distraction from the mayday situation in his brain.

There was no conversation, no noise save for the rhythmic thumping of the scarecrow, the quiet whisper of his feet over the grass. Tally that with the hyper state of paranoia Yuuri had found himself in, he noticed immediately once the silence had been broken.

Yuuri came to a halt, the scarecrow hopping a few feet in front of him before it slowed once it realized he had stopped. He looked over his shoulder. Focusing intently on the dip of the sky behind him, the farmer’s cottage and his hometown no longer visible. 

At first, they were blots on the horizon, droplets of ink spill on the empty stretch of sky. Then they got bigger, closer, and closer, faster than what should have been possible. The closer they got, the more Yuuri could make out a shape. Two people. Standing up straight on two broomsticks, flying straight through the sky and soaring right at him. 

The voices were closer now. And they were angry. 

Yuuri’s blood froze over. His senses caught up to the situation before his mind did, taking a few steps back before turning on his heel, running upwards as fast as his legs could carry him. Through the wind rushing in his ears he could just make out the thumping of the scarecrow, nearly keeping up pace with his heartbeat as it dashed to keep up with him. 

Yuuri was flying through the Waste but in his mind he was back in primary school, back with his wide-smiling teacher with a sugary sweet voice that rang clearly through the ringing in his skull. 

_The Waste is where wizards go to do anything their government says is illegal. The terrain is treacherous, the hiding spots are abound, it is just big enough and just vast enough to make it extremely difficult to track anyone down, even if they have magic._

Yuuri stumbled over a pile of rocks, his hands jolting out in front of him to catch himself before he hit the ground, pushing upwards with the momentum as he kept running forward without missing a beat. 

_Curses. Experiments. Kidnapping. Murder. That’s the least you can expect if run into someone while you’re in the Waste._

Yuuri uttered a little cry as what looked to be a little hand held grenade was tossed high over his head, exploding into a frenzied storm of bats that missed him and the scarecrow by just a few feet. Yuuri’s breaths started coming in heaves, his muscles begging for mercy yet the hill just seemed to keep going up. He shouldn’t’ve been here. He shouldn’t’ve been here. 

_Wizard bandits._

Wizard bandits. And they were chasing him. 

Yuuri didn’t dare look behind him, but he didn’t need to to know that the voices were only getting louder, the broomsticks only getting closer. Yuuri came to the realization that he could never outrun them, not on foot, not if he ran for a lifetime.

Then the cloak tripped him. 

The hem wrapped around one of his feet, Yuuri eating dirt as he sprawled face first into the ground. It didn’t hurt much, the soft silt and silky grass providing enough cushion to absorb his impact, but his glasses had flown off, the cloak was still wrapped around his foot, and the wizards were right on top of him. 

Yuuri felt as if all the air rushed out of his lungs, panic seizing him as he realized his position. “No!” Yuuri screamed, clawing desperately over the ground for his glasses, trying to keep crawling forwards without the help of his bound leg. “No! You stupid cursed dishtowel, let go!”

Without his glasses he could just barely make out an extremely blurry scarecrow, soaring over his head landing on square on the tail of the cloak with a thud. The cloak relinquished Yuuri’s leg, writhing violently like an angry snake. The scarecrow hopped back off and bounced away, barrelling away from Yuuri and towards the wizard bandits. Yuuri finally found his glasses and smushed them back on his face, managing to turn in time to see the wizards swerving away from Yuuri, chasing after a rapidly bouncing scarecrow that was making its getaway.

Yuuri saw his chance and he took it. He turned back on his heel and started running again, his body still somehow disjointed from his mind as it led him through the tall grasses. The shouts of the bandits faded slowly in the background, whatever the scarecrow was doing still seemed to be working. But the ground just refused to level out, Yuuri having to slow to a stop to bend over on all fours and dry heave for breath.

As he returned to himself, it seemed like hope left. Yuuri was tired.. He was so, so tired of this climb that seemed to never end. His cloak was a time bomb, his feet were ready to give out, he was hungry, and he was still smack in the middle of the Waste. Yuuri knew. He knew he didn’t belong there. How did he expect this to turn out? 

The bandits might’ve been gone for now, but Yuuri knew they’d be back. And he knew that there were more. And the sun was almost gone, and he still had no idea where he was going, what he’d find, when he’d get there. _This is it_ , he thought. _I’m a dead man._

He heard it before he saw it.

**_BOOM._**

There was a ripple in the great sea of grass in front of him, growing bigger and bigger until it swept right over him, the grass shuddering in a violent gust of wind, the ground trembling with such force that Yuuri was nearly sent toppling to the ground. Panting, he lifted his eyes slowly to look forward, at the crest of the hill he stood before where the sun just barely peaked over, like a beacon. 

Why was his heart beating so fast?

**_BOOM._ **

The sun at the top of the hill was blotted out, a wall of darkness rising up, and up, never ending.

Wildly, inexplicably, Yuuri’s first thought was that it was a monster.

It had the face of a beast, a gaping maw that stretched for miles, turned into a grin with rows and rows of crooked metallic teeth, each one as tall as Yuuri. It seemed to be panting, a great tongue, the color of rust, lolling out, but then the illusion of life was shattered as a cloud of steam huffed out of its open mouth. Then Yuuri took in the clank of sheet metal, the pipes on its back that puffed out smoke, the whirring clicks of gears sliding into place and then a giant, clawed iron foot that lifted high into the air before crashing back down in slow motion. 

**_BOOM._**

And Yuuri had a feeling, once again. A feeling that came out of nowhere in the back of his mind, that had no basis and no fact to support it, but somehow Yuuri knew that there was no denying that it was right. 

In that moment, Yuuri realized two things. First, he was staring at Victor’s moving castle. 

Second, he was about to go inside.

_Why._

Another one of its four enormous clawed feet lifted again, this time carrying the house directly over Yuuri’s head. Yuuri took a step back, trying to get his muscles to wake up, to run away, but he could hardly move. 

_Him again…_

The angry shouts came back from behind him. It seemed Turnip Head’s distraction had run out of time.

Yuuri’s next moves were on complete and utter instinct, feeling almost as if his body were moving without his own permission as he sprinted with all his might, charging the house dead on. His brain was positively screaming as he ran under the great underbelly of the house, foundation and pipes and vents running high above his head, an imminent threat that could crush him with the slightest bend of a metal clawed foot. He wanted to stop running. He didn’t want to be here. But he kept pushing on. 

When was finally clear from under the house, he dug his heels into the ground, turning a sharp one-eighty and suddenly finding himself chasing after the house from the opposite direction. His muscles were on fire but he could hardly feel it, sweat dripping into his eyes as they focused in on the back of the castle. There was a step with pole railings at the very back, not unlike the trolley he rode so often back at home. 

Yuuri had no idea what he was doing, but he couldn’t stop. He took a great running leap and latched onto the railing with an ease he had practiced for all his life, holding on with all he had as the back leg of the house touched back to the ground with another colossal, earth shattering **_BOOM._** On the top of the little porch there wasn’t a front door to be seen, only a solid wall of clicking gears, shifting pulleys, a seemingly ticking and ever-evolving puzzle of machinery. 

But again, somehow, Yuuri just knew. His hand shot out on its own accord, tugging on a lever that see sawed out through a gap in between two gears, just in time before it shifted out of sight yet again. There were a series of ticks as tumblers turned into place, pieces shifting together in a sensible pattern that emerged from the madness. 

And now there was a door. 

Yuuri’s hands were shaking. He was literally standing on the threshold of a legend. A dangerous legend. A legend that ripped people’s hearts out, that stole and vandalized and scandalized the world. 

This was Victor’s house. This was Victor’s moving castle. _I shouldn’t be here,_ was all he could think, over and over again. This was so above and beyond his paygrade. If he had a lick of sense, he would turn on his heel, hop down, let the castle wander back off into the horizon line he couldn’t reach. 

Go _home._

He opened the door. 

The door shut behind him with a quiet snick, and all he could see was black. He stood in the silent darkness, trembling under the cold and the weight of his decision, unable to bring himself to move again. When his eyes adjusted to the dark, Yuuri came to realize he was in something like a hall, nowhere left to go but up a tall staircase that went up, up into a void of darkness that he couldn’t see through. 

Yuuri began his ascent, subconsciously making as little noise as possible, on the tips of his toes and so slow that it almost felt like he was torturing himself. In his gut, he felt like this was it. He was right in front of the root of it all, the reason for everything that had been happening to him. The cloak on his head, the twinkle of blue eyes, a flash of visions that didn’t belong to him. Whoever Victor was. 

He lifted his foot for another step, only to find that he had reached the top. 

He looked up, blinking rapidly as he tried to take in his surroundings. It was still too dark to make out much more than a few outlines of furniture, the ghost of a rug and the shadow of a sofa. It would’ve been easy to guess that he was in a lounge of sorts, even without the light, but one particular feature made it undeniable.

At the very far end of the room, directly in Yuuri’s line of sight, there was an enormous fireplace. It was shaped like the yawning maw of a beast, somewhat mirroring the face on the outside of the moving castle. Inside there were a pile of logs that were singed and scorched, no flame to be seen save for the weak glow of a few embers. 

Yuuri took a moment to let his surroundings sink in, to let his brain rewire itself to assess the situation. He kept waiting to feel afraid, to feel uncertainty and unease, but was surprised to find nothing of the sort. Instead, there was the most peculiar sense of comfort, even fondness flickering somewhere deep inside of himself. 

_As I stand in the darkness, in the home of a famous wizard that I broke into._

There was a chair propped at the very edge of the hearth, which Yuuri found himself collapsing into with a sigh. _Okay. So I really am insane. No way to deny it anymore_. He propped his arms on the edge of the hearth with a sigh, nestling his head into them as his eyes grew heavy. Perhaps if he put a few more logs onto the fire, he could stoke it back to life. It was a bit cold in there, anyways.

Several things happened at once. Out of nowhere, the hearth Yuuri had been leaning on burst to life with a flash of flame so powerful that the force of it scooted his chair back, his skin cracking under the intense heat and his vision momentarily going white. Then, before the tears could even be wiped from his eyes, a white hot poker was thrust an inch away from his nose.

“Who the fuck are you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take a guess who that is ;D *angry guitar riff*
> 
> *cough*
> 
> So, uh. Sorry. That's really all I can say. I guess if you read the last chapter's notes it was pretty obviously incoming, but I kinda just came back from a pretty bad mental breakdown. There's a lot of pressure on myself (admittedly, I kinda load myself with more than I can reasonably take) but wallowing in self pity never gets anything done, and I want to live a life where I get things done. Not only did I get this chapter done and have a blast doing it, but I actually have the next chapter pre-written. I considered dropping two chapters at a time as a way of saying sorry, but I figured I should keep it as insurance and just use this next week to make the quality as good as I want it to be. But yeah, we should be back up to weekly updates now. Or at least bi-weekly, I'm still adjusting to the whole fanfic schedule business.
> 
> Also, I just want to take a moment to say thank you, THANK you to all the people who left so many amazing, wonderful comments on the last chapter. The feedback was beyond anything I was expecting, and I can't tell you how grateful I am and how much it means to me. Let's just say that in my darkest hours this past month, when my self esteem was at its lowest, reading over the comments is what made me feel like it was impossible to abandon this fic. Thank you thank you thank you, you are angels and you deserve so much better than a month long update and I'm sorry x
> 
> So yeah. We're moving forward. You guys are gonna flip your shit next chapter, we've got the train a-rollin' now ;DDDDD
> 
> follow my [Tumblr](http://weeaboobi.tumblr.com/) I scream, I meme, and I will provide updates whence they are needed  
> also be sure to check out my lovely beta and good good friend at [yurioyo](http://yurioyo.tumblr.com/), thank you so much for the guidance, advice, and sorry for hiring you and then giving you absolutely nothing to work with for a month. You are the fuckin BOMB
> 
> Give this kudos/comments or Victor WON'T reappear in the next chapter >:Dc


	5. DELETE LATER/HIATUS ANNOUNCEMENT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I  
> AM  
> SORRY

God, I have like a million things to apologize for but first and foremost I am so sorry for the fake update, I know it must be annoying but I really couldn't think of a better way to make sure you guys all saw this. 

So yeah, this fic is NOT abandoned. It's been rough, but I'm a stubborn fuck. Basically, I'm on the cusp of graduating high school and I'm under a LOT of mental pressure right now. With all the stress in my life, I feel like it's impossible for me to write not only to my satisfaction, but also to the quality you guys deserve. 

Trust me, I've been trying my hardest. In all the narrow free - time I've had, I've been pulling up the doc of chapter 5 and gluing my hands to the keyboard. But in the end, everything I write sounds so forced and strained and lacking the vision I've had for this fic since the beginning. It's a crucial, crucial chapter, so I couldn't throw my fucks to the wind and upload it even though I wasn't satisfied, the way I did with the past two chapters. So in the end, as much as I don't want to do this, I think this is the best course of option for my mental health and also for this story. 

I hope you guys can understand. I have an exact date set for the next chapter update, I feel like that's the least I can do to assure you guys that I do mean business and that I am coming back with this. I'll be back on Friday, May 26. That's a week after the due date of my last online assignment, and then we can have a whole summer of no stress and just write, write, writing. God, that sounds like heaven. 

Thanks again for everything you guys. See you soon!

**5/25 EDIT**

Hey you guys, I'm not dead lmao. 

Just gonna let you know that I'm getting everything set up for the update, and that y'all should expect a full reno with like the whole fic. Cause that's what I did. I went back and edited this whole fic like the overzealous idiot that I am. And it's almost done and I'm squashing away the doubts and insecurities and holes one by one but it's taking time. Duh. But what I'm trying to say is that tomorrow I have to work at night, so the time that I usually update I'll be selling tickets to coked up ten year olds to watch pirates of the carribbean. I live in Germany and idk how the time differences work out so the update might not come on EXACTLY the 26th. Whatever the fuck. It's still getting updated tho. Just wanted to let you know that. 

God I just realized how pointless this update was.

**5/29 EDIT**

Hey you guys I'm still not dead lmao. 

Moving the hiatus update. I have excuses but I'm sure y'all really don't give a shit you're just like "HOLY SHIT JUST UPDATE YOU FUCKING FLAKE"

F U C K 

See you June 3rd.

**6/9 EDIT**

I suck. But everyone here already knows that, so it's good. 

Anyways, I just got back from a week long family trip around Europe. Yup. That's my excuse. I have pictures if you don't believe me, bitch.

Anyhoo, I've just drank a lot of caffeine and I'm in a writing mood, so that's what I'm gonna do. 

See you soon *piledrives empty starbucks cup*


End file.
